Cibrarp  of trhe  theological  ^eminarp 

PRINCETON    •    NEW  JERSEY 

-»>  «fr 

PRESENTED  BY 

Herbert  E.  Pickett,  Jr, 

BX  9178  ,D4  D5  1910 
Dawson,  William  James,  185 

1928 
The  divine  challenge 


THE  DIVINE  CHALLENGE 


MARSH** 


THE   ^9>m*& 


& 


DIVINE   CHALLENGE 


BY  THE   REV. 


W.  J.   DAWSON,   D.  D. 


HODDER  &  STOUGHTON 

NEW  YORK 

GEORGE  H.  DOB AN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1910,  BY 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    The  Divine  Challenge    m    w    w  m    13 

II.     The  Lamp  and  the  Day  Star  .      .  r.-i     33 

III.  The  Sovereignty  Of  God  >;    >     M  (.     51 

IV.  Fulfilment  m    -.,    w    w     w     L.„    ..,  .     69 

V.      TlMELESSNESS         t.j      H      M      w      M      w  M      89 

VI.     God's  Poems  f.      .     >     w     t.     M    M  >.  107 

VII.     Elijah's  Loneliness     .      .     >      .  .   123 

VIII.     The  Greatness  Of  Man  Seen  in  Hu- 
man Progress  >     :.      ..     w     ...  t..  143 

IX.     The  Exploits  of  Faith    ...     M     M  ..   161 

X.     The  Changed  Form     m     M     M     w  •■■  179 

XL     Utter  Knowledge  is  Utter  Love  .   197 

XII.     The  Personal  Factor  in  Religion  .   215 

XIII.  The  Power  of  Principle  w     w     w  .. 

XIV.  Chambers  of  Imagery  m     m     w     >i  « 
XV.     The  Reproach  of  the  Flower    m  m  271 


THE  DIVINE  CHALLENGE 


THE  DIVINE  CHALLENGE 

"Believe  Me  that  I  am  in  the  Father,  and  the  Father  in 
Me;  or  else  believe  Me  for  the  very  works'  sake." — John  xiv. 
11. 

DO  men  believe  in  Christ?  Do  the  young  men  of 
this  generation  believe  in  Christ?  If  they  do 
not,  is  it  because  they  have  paid  no  attention  to  the 
subject,  and  regard  it  as  of  slight  importance? 
These  are  some  of  the  questions  suggested  by  this 
pregnant  saying  of  Christ,  to  which  I  invite  your 
deliberate  and  reverent  attention. 

Now  beyond  all  doubt  religion  is  by  far  the  most 
important  thing  in  human  life.  It  is  not  merely  a 
question  of  supreme  interest  who  we  are,  what  we 
are,  and  what  is  our  destiny,  but  is  a  matter  of  su- 
preme practical  importance,  since  the  whole  area  of 
human  conduct  is  ruled  by  man's  conception  of  him- 
self, his  duties,  and  his  destiny.  The  evidence  of 
this  statement  is  found  in  universal  history.  Thus, 
for  example,  no  state  has  ever  risen  to  any  position 
of  great  power  and  dominion  except  by  the  aid  of 
religion,   and  the   great   itruggles   of  mankind   can 

13 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

almost  always  be  traced  to  motives  in  themselves 
profoundly  religious,  or  the  offspring  of  religion. 
Perhaps  the  greatest  empire  the  world  has  ever 
known  was  the  Roman,  and  in  the  earlier  stages  of 
their  history  the  Romans  were  not  less  religious  than 
the  Israelites.  Horace  was  by  no  means  a  religious 
man,  yet  he  was  constrained  to  admit  that  Rome 
could  not  endure  without  religious  convictions,  and 
he  warns  his  countrymen  that  all  their  sorrows  spring 
from  forgetfulness  of  God.  Voltaire  spoke  in  pre- 
cisely the  same  spirit  when  he  said  that  if  there  were 
no  God  it  would  be  necessary  to  invent  a  God,  be- 
cause without  belief  in  God  the  fabric  of  society 
could  not  be  held  together.  So  far  as  English  do- 
mestic history  is  concerned,  there  has  not  been  a 
single  great  struggle  on  English  soil  which  has  not 
been  dominated  by  religious  ideas,  and  the  whole 
story  of  the  national  development  expresses  the 
enormous  effect  of  religious  ideas  on  practical  con- 
duct. So  then  the  first  thing  which  we  are  con- 
strained to  admit  is  the  enormous  importance  of 
religion  in  personal  and  national  life,  and  this  is 
something  which  only  the  grossly  ignorant  or  entirely 
foolish  and  thoughtless  will  think  of  doubting. 

It  was  one  of  the  earliest  sayings  of  Jesus  Christ 
that  the  practical  virtue  of  any  system  of  faith  lay  in 
its  effect  on  conduct,  "  by  their  fruits  ye  shall  know 
them."  It  is  this  principle  which  He  applies  now  to 
Himself  and  His  teaching.     He  submits  Himself  to 

14 


THE      DIVINE      CHALLENGE 

the  examination  of  practical  men.  He  is  well  aware 
that  in  the  long  run  even  the  best  and  greatest  of 
men  must  be  judged  not  by  anything  they  have  said 
or  taught,  but  by  what  they  have  done.  We  all 
admit  this  principle  and  we  practise  it.  When  we 
sum  up  the  career  of  a  statesman,  we  may  read  his 
speeches  with  interest,  but  the  main  thing  to  which 
we  pay  attention  is  the  nature  of  the  measures  he 
passed,  and  the  total  quality  of  his  impact  on  the 
public  life.  When  we  read  Buddha's  teachings  of 
brotherhood,  we  admit  their  charm,  but  we  judge 
their  real  value  by  the  fact  that  for  four  thousand 
years  in  India  the  lives  of  the  rich  and  the  poor 
have  run  in  parallel  lines,  and  have  never  once  met. 
A  man's  ideas  and  teachings  are  at  all  times  but  the 
flower  of  the  mind,  or  of  the  soul,  if  you  will;  the 
great  question  is,  is  there  fruit  as  well  as  flower, 
and  has  the  blossom  slowly  changed  into  the  fruit 
that  is  for  the  healing  of  the  nations?  Jesus  knows 
that  that  question  must  be  asked,  and  He  not  merely 
submits  to  it,  He  challenges  it.  Standing  in  the  sad 
gloom  of  the  premature  end,  knowing  that  His  dis- 
ciples will  be  tempted  to  think  His  life  a  failure,  He 
now  bids  them,  if  they  cannot  believe  in  Him  for  His 
own  sake,  at  least  to  believe  in  Him  for  His  works' 
sake.  Let  them  measure  that  work ;  let  them  regard 
the  significance  of  Christ  in  history;  and  then  let 
them  judge  whether  or  not  He  is  divine.  And  that 
is  the  challenge  of  Christ  to  us  also.     We  see  what 

15 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

His  disciples  did  not  see,  we  behold  the  expanding 
and  miraculous  phenomenon  of  Christianity  through 
nearly  twenty  centuries  —  the  significance  of  Christ 
in  history,  the  supremacy  that  He  has  won  over  the 
souls  and  minds  of  men,  the  effect  which  belief  in 
Him  has  had  over  all  who  have  truly  embraced  it, 
and  through  them,  over  great  tracts  of  time,  wide 
fields  of  event,  immense  domains  of  thought,  morals 
and  conduct  —  we  see  this,  and  ask,  "  Could  a  mere 
man  do  this  ?  "  Was  not  this  the  very  God  incarnate, 
God  made  manifest  in  Jesus,  so  that  He  who  has 
wrought  these  wonders  in  the  world  might  truly 
claim,  "  I  am  in  the  Father,  and  the  Father  in  me ; 
I  and  the  Father  are  one." 

For  the  sake  of  clearness  in  definition  we  may  say, 
that  the  works  of  Christ  are  manifest  in  three  direc- 
tions —  the  mind,  the  heart,  and  the  conduct  of  men. 
His  work  upon  the  mind  is  seen  in  the  intellectual 
ideals  of  men;  on  the  heart,  in  their  moral  life;  on 
the  conduct,  in  their  practical  life.  Let  us  put  aside 
if  you  will,  all  questions  of  the  person  of  Christ.  Let 
us  assume  that  all  which  we  know  is  that  many  cen- 
turies ago  there  appeared  in  an  obscure  village  of 
the  obscurest  country  in  the  world,  a  young  man, 
who  for  three  years  aroused  considerable  interest 
among  His  countrymen.  By  all  accounts  He  had 
the  genius  to  be  loved,  and  to  be  hated;  He  made 
friends  and  He  made  enemies;  He  disregarded  the 
prejudices   and  conventions   of  society;  He  taught 

16 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

certain  rules  of  life  that  were  new  and  strange;  He 
fell  at  last  a  victim  to  a  jealous  ecclesiastic  oligarchy, 
was  violently  arrested,  unjustly  condemned,  crucified, 
dead,  and  buried.  His  teachings  survived  Him,  and 
by-and-bye  the  story  of  His  life,  as  was  perfectly 
natural,  came  to  be  told.  These  teachings,  first  im- 
pregnating the  minds  of  a  few  humble  men,  spread 
with  an  unprecedented  rapidity,  and  had  the  most 
singular  and  momentous  effect  upon  the  world.  That 
is  as  much  as  we  need  to  know  for  the  purpose  of 
our  argument ;  the  question  is  what  were  those  effects, 
and  how  do  they  dispose  our  minds  to  think  of 
Christ? 

First,  then,  I  ask  you  to  think  of  the  work  of 
Christ  in  the  realm  of  the  intellect ;  and  let  us  further 
narrow  the  enquiry  to  the  consideration  of  the  reli- 
gious ideas  with  which  He  impregnated  the  human 
mind. 

Now  if  we  go  back  to  the  date  of  Christ's  birth,  we 
find  preserved  for  us  by  the  diligence  of  the  historian 
a  vivid  and  accurate  picture  of  the  religious  condition 
of  the  world.  Three  nations  at  once  absorb  our 
attention,  the  Jew,  the  Greek,  and  the  Roman.  All 
that  was  wisest  in  human  philosophy  and  prof oundest 
in  human  thought  was  preserved  among  these  three 
peoples.  It  was  to  these  peoples  that  Christianity 
especially  addressed  itself.  It  was  in  Jerusalem, 
Corinth,  Ephesus,  and  Rome  that  the  earliest  seed 
of  Christianity  was  sown.     What  then  was  the  re- 

17 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 


ligious  condition  of  these  great  peoples,  what  the 
conclusions  of  the  intellect  on  religious  subjects 
which  the j  had  reached  and  accepted? 

The  answer  may  be  given  in  a  single  sentence;  in 
each  case  religion  had  totally  broken  down. 

For  the  Jew  religion  had  become  narrower  and 
narrower  until  it  was  a  mere  piece  of  gorgeous  and 
empty  ritual.  Its  theory  of  the  divine  government 
of  the  universe  had  become  incredible.  Amid  the 
millions  of  men  and  women  in  the  world  who  vaguely 
felt  after  the  secret  of  virtue,  it  would  appear  that 
God  cared  only  for  the  Jew.  To  be  a  son  of 
Abraham  was  to  have  an  inalienable  claim  on  heaven, 
and,  according  to  the  Pharisee's  view  of  the  case, 
quite  apart  from  any  righteousness  of  conduct. 
God  was  thus  merely  a  tribal  God,  and  the  whole 
universe  was  administered  in  the  special  interest  of 
the  Jew.  A  great  religion  when  it  was  enunciated 
on  Sinai,  a  powerful  religion  when  it  gripped  the 
mind  and  conscience  of  a  fugitive  race  in  their  early 
struggles,  a  true  religion  when  it  was  sincerely  be- 
lieved ;  it  had  now  lost  all  its  saving  salt  of  sincerity, 
had  become  a  fetish,  and  ministered  less  to  human 
virtue  than  to  human  impiety,  arrogance,  and  exclu- 
siveness. 

Among  the  Greeks  also  religion  had  totally  broken 
down.  The  worship  of  mere  physical  beauty  was 
universal,  and  when  Socrates  prayed  that  the  Gods 
would  give  him  "  beauty  of  soul,"  he  was  not  under- 

18 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

stood.  The  Gods  themselves  were  the  incarnation  of 
human  vices  as  well  as  virtues,  for  the  Greek  had 
his  God  of  cunning,  and  his  God  of  lying,  as  well  as 
his  Gods  of  music,  chastity,  and  wisdom. 

And  among  the  Romans  the  breakdown  of  religion 
was  even  more  disastrous,  and  it  took  a  form  ab- 
solutely appalling.  That  form  was  the  worship  of 
Caesar  as  God.  When  Herod  received  the  worship  of 
the  people  as  a  God  and  not  as  a  man;  when  Paul 
spoke  of  the  "  man  of  sin  who  sitteth  in  the  temple 
of  God  shewing  himself  that  he  is  God,"  Herod 
simply  emulated  the  Caesars  in  claiming  divine 
honours,  and  Paul  directly  refers  to  this  impious 
worship  of  Caesar.  To  the  reigning  Caesar,  temples 
were  built,  sacrifices  were  offered,  and  divine  honours 
were  paid.  To  us  such  an  impiety  seems  incredible, 
especially  among  a  people  so  robust  in  mind  and 
masculine  in  temper  as  the  Roman.  But  there  was  a 
reason  for  it.  Faith  in  any  external  government  of 
the  universe  had  wholly  failed.  Madness  and  corrup- 
tion had  seized  upon  every  class  of  society.  There 
was  neither  justice,  virtue,  nor  morality  left  —  all 
had  been  dissolved  with  a  dissolving  faith  in  a  divine 
government.  Then  came  Julius  Caesar,  and,  by  what 
is  the  greatest  miracle  of  secular  history,  arrested 
the  decay  of  society,  imposed  upon  it  a  military 
despotism  which  was  at  least  just  and  powerful, 
combined  its  scattered  forces,  gave  Rome  a  new 
lease  of  life,  and  established  once  more  the  supremacy 

19 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

of  virtue.  What  wonder  that  Caesar  was  soon  re- 
garded as  more  than  mortal  man?  What  wonder 
that  the  hope  of  mankind  clung  with  frantic,  and 
then  with  adoring  passion  to  this  new  Saviour  of 
society?  Something  man  must  worship,  and  the 
Gods  being  gone,  soon  man  began  to  worship  his 
fellow  man  as  God.  And  this  was  the  state  of  re- 
ligious thought  when  Christ  came  —  the  Jew  wor- 
shipping before  an  empty  shrine  on  which  the  flame 
of  sincerity  had  died,  the  Greek  delighting  in  a 
brutally  corrupt  mythology,  the  Roman  worshipping 
Augustus  Caesar  as  the  one  puissant  and  active  deity 
in  the  world. 

And  now  consider  the  challenge  of  this  text.  This 
youth,  growing  up  in  a  tiny  Syrian  town,  where  not 
only  the  Roman  or  the  Greek  but  the  leaders  of  His 
own  nation  never  came,  begins  to  speak  certain 
words  about  God.  The  only  conception  of  God  left 
to  the  Jews  is  an  exclusive  tribal  deity  who  cares  only 
for  the  sons  of  Abraham ;  this  youth  speaks  of  the 
Father  in  heaven,  who  has  an  equal  love  of  all  men. 
The  Greek  looking  with  impure  eyes  into  the  mys- 
tery of  things  invents  deities  even  more  corrupt 
than  man ;  this  youth  says,  "  Blessed  are  the  pure  in 
heart  for  they  shall  see  God."  The  Roman,  bank- 
rupt in  all  faith  in  any  divine  power  outside  the 
earth,  sacrifices  to  Caesar  as  the  only  power  he 
knows ;  this  youth  draws  back  the  veil  of  the 
infinite,  and  reveals  the  ever-living  Judge  of  quick 

20 


THE      DIVINE      CHALLENGE 

and  dead,  and  says,  "  There  is  none  good  but  one, 
that  is  God."     You  would  have  supposed  that  any 
words    spoken   by    one    so    insignificant   would  have 
been  wholly  lost ;  it  is  natural  to  suppose  so.     What 
is   there   briefer   in    its    influence   than   the   spoken 
word ;  and  this  youth  never  wrote  a  single  sentence, 
never  did  what  the  humblest  prophet  or  philosopher 
did  to  perpetuate  His  message,  never  took  the  least 
precaution  to  preserve  His  teaching.     Yet  that  teach- 
ing spread  with  miraculous  rapidity.     He  Himself 
had  said  that  His  words  were  spirit  and  life,  and  so 
it  proved. ^^Rispered  at  first  in  the  lowly  places  of 
the   earth,    spoken   presently   in   the   market   places, 
temples  and  palaces ;  prescribed  as  heresy,  hated  as 
blasphemy;  these  words  spread  and  everywhere  they 
struck  the  note  of  a  new  life.     Into  the  deep  black- 
ness of  the  pit  where  society  lay  and  rotted  there 
came  a  ray  of  light ;  over  the  sterile  waste  of  hu- 
man thought  there  blew  the  wind  of  life.     At  length 
the  hour  came  when  the  old  was  utterly  outworn; 
Rome  fell,  and  great  was  the  fall  of  it;  but  in  the 
same   instant   it   was   discovered  that   a   new   power 
had   taken   its   place,    and   Christ   filled   the   throne 
which   Caesar  had  abdicated.     The   dust   of  conflict 
cleared  away,  and  behold  the  Cross  shone  upon  the 
Capitol.     The  thoughts  of  Christ  about  God  became 
the    supreme   truths    on   which    men   based    all   their 
hopes  and  aspirations.     The  Fatherhood  of  God  —  a 
true  sovereignty  of  intelligence,  law,  and  love  —  be- 

21 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

came  the  keystone  of  human  thought,  and  a  new 
world  sprang  out  of  the  ruins  of  the  old.  All  that 
as  the  fruit  of  a  brief  life  lived  in  Galilee,  and  of 
certain  words  spoken  among  its  quiet  hills;  all  that 
as  the  work  of  one  who  had  but  three  years  in  which 
to  influence  the  world,  and  was  rejected  by  the  world 
with  every  circumstance  of  ignominy  and  shame! 
Have  you  considered  what  it  means?  Have  you 
given  one  single  thoughtful  hour  to  what  is  the 
greatest  phenomenon  in  human  history?  Can  you, 
with  this  phenomenon  before  you,  resist  the  force 
of  the  divine  appeal,  "  Believe  me,  that  I  am  in  the 
Father,  and  the  Father  in  me;  or  else  believe  me  for 
the  very  works'  sake?  " 

Let  a  second  picture  pass  before  the  mind,  and 
consider  the  work  of  Christ  upon  the  human  heart. 
The  heart  stands  for  morality ;  for  the  way  in  which 
men  feel  toward  one  another,  and  the  way  in  which 
they  treat  one  another. 

And  here  three  facts  may  be  stated  as  indicative  of 
the  moral  condition  of  the  world  when  Christ  entered 
it.  The  first  is  that  the  ancient  world  had  no  con- 
ception of  the  rights  of  human  liberty.  The  great 
mass  of  men  in  the  Roman  empire  were  slaves,  and 
when  Plato  sketched  his  ideal  republic,  it  never 
occurred  to  him  that  society  could  exist  without 
slavery.  The  great  edifices  of  the  ancient  world 
which  yet  remain,  on  whose  spoliated  splendour  we 
look   with   wonder,   were   all   built   by   slave   labour. 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

There  is  no  truism  in  modern  philosophy  more  worn 
and  trite  than  the  dignity  of  labour,  the  "  perennial 
nobleness  of  honest  toil,"  as  Carlyle  called  it ;  we 
sometimes  forget  that  this  is  an  ethic  of  very  modern 
date.  Labour  for  the  Roman  was  a  thing  both  con- 
temptible and  shameful.  Society  had  but  two  classes, 
the  free  citizen  and  the  slave.  An  immense  gulf 
separated  them;  on  one  side  of  the  gulf,  life  moved 
in  stateliness  and  ease,  a  sensual  and  sumptuous 
pageant;  on  the  other,  life  toiled  obscurely  in  igno- 
rance and  drudgery,  knowing  no  rights,  and  incapable 
of  striving  for  them.  So  again,  the  ancient  world 
knew  nothing  of  morality  in  our  sense  of  the  term. 
One  of  the  chief  Pauline  doctrines  is  that  society  is 
an  organism;  that  it  is  knit  together  by  a  thousand 
delicate  nerves ;  that  our  good  actions  and  our  bad 
involve  others  in  our  weal  and  woe,  and  that  there  is 
no  man  who  liveth  to  himself.  But  to  the  wisest  of 
Pagan  philosophers  such  words  meant  nothing. 
Seneca,  one  of  the  clearest  of  ancient  thinkers,  made 
no  scruple  of  advising  Nero  to  give  the  rein  to  his 
passions,  and  it  never  occurred  to  the  philosopher  that 
the  pleasures  of  Nero  involved  the  misery  and  dis- 
honour of  his  victims.  That  would  be  our  first 
thought  in  considering  any  question  of  morality,  but 
it  was  a  thought  of  which  the  ancient  world  had 
never  heard. 

It  does  not  surprise  us  therefore  to  find  further 
that  the  ancient  world  knew  no  pity  for  weakness  or 

23 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

misfortune.  The  reign  of  might,  and  the  right  of 
might  were  things  unquestioned.  If  a  man  chose 
to  torture  his  slave  or  even  slay  his  child,  it  was  his 
own  affair.  To  be  weak  or  poor,  was  not  only  to  be 
miserable,  but  deservedly  miserable.  Life  had  little 
value,  and  of  the  eighty  thousand  people  who  filled 
the  Colosseum,  and  watched  the  dying  gladiator, 
"  butchered  to  make  a  Roman  holiday,"  not  one  ever 
thought  of  pitying  him.  Nor  was  even  the  Jew 
much  better  than  the  Roman  in  his  attitude  to  mis- 
fortune and  weakness.  The  blind  man  doubtless  de- 
served his  blindness,  or  he  would  not  be  blind ;  suffer- 
ing was  the  wrath  of  heaven ;  and  the  one  convincing 
proof  of  the  favour  of  God  was  a  visible  prosperity ; 
and  thus,  put  in  a  slightly  different  way,  for  the 
Jew  also,  as  for  the  Roman,  might  was  the  only 
right. 

Once  more  look  then  at  this  supreme  phenomenon 
of  history,  the  work  of  Christ  upon  the  human  heart. 
This  youth  comes  down  from  the  hill-village  of 
Nazareth,  moves  among  all  classes  of  society,  and 
treats  them  as  having  equal  rights.  He  announces 
the  golden  axiom  that  as  we  would  that  men  shall  do 
to  us,  even  so  should  we  do  to  them,  and  He  practises 
it.  He  goes  about  doing  good,  healing,  comforting, 
feeding  the  hungry,  visiting  the  sick,  succouring  the 
dying  pariahs  and  wastrels  of  society ;  He  earns  the 
splendid  reproach  that  He  is  the  friend  of  publicans 
and  sinners.     He  utters  parable  after  parable,  the 

24 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

aim  of  which  is  to  teach  kindliness  and  love ;  applauds 
the  good  Samaritan ;  rebukes  Dives,  pities  Lazarus ; 
pictures   the   Judgment-seat   of   God   as   the   solemn 
tribunal  where  men  are  judged  for  their  love  of  one 
another,  or  their  lovelessness ;  Himself  dies  forgiving 
His  enemies,  and  breathing  benediction  on   a  thief 
who  perishes  with  Him.     At  the  time,  perhaps,  not 
even  His  disciples  comprehended  the  significance  of 
these   words    and   actions ;   but   they   were   not   for- 
gotten.    After  a  while  they  emerged  into  dazzling 
distinctness,  and  attracted  the  attention  of  the  world. 
Men   meditated   over  them,   talked   of  them   one  to 
another,  and  at  last  strove  to  live  in  the  same  spirit. 
A  company  of  men  and  women  arose  whose  avowed 
object  was  to  live  as  this  youth  lived,  and  they  began 
to    overspread   the   world.     And   so   the   Church   of 
Christ  begins  —  a   confederacy   of  men  and  women 
who  love  Him,  love  one  another,  and  love  all  men; 
the  religion  of  humanity  begins ;  pity,  tenderness,  and 
consideration   soften  the  human  heart;  slavery   dies 
out,    gladiatorial    combats    cease;   wealth   is   shared, 
poverty  is  cheerfully  endured,  labour  becomes  honour- 
able, and  the  keynote  of  a  new  morality  is  struck, 
that  it  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive  —  to 
minister  than  to  be  ministered  unto.     All  this  as  the 
fruit  of  a  single  brief  life  lived  long  ago  in  Palestine. 
All  our  liberties,  rights,  humanities,  moralities  as  the 
direct  result  of  a  life  that  perished  on  the  Cross ! 
How  will  you  judge  that  life?     What  can  you  make 

25 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

of  a  story  so  splendid  and  so  nearly  incredible? 
Forget  if  you  please  all  that  theology  has  to  say 
about  this  wondrous  youth  of  Nazareth ;  regard  it 
as  unthinkable  if  you  must ;  still  the  works  remain, 
and  the  divine  challenge  reaches  us,  "  Believe  me  that 
I  am  in  the  Father,  and  the  Father  in  me:  or  else 
believe  me  for  the  very  works'  sake." 

And  so  you  have  the  last  picture  of  the  work  of 
Christ  on  the  practical  conduct  of  men  —  and  here 
we  have  no  need  to  confine  our  thoughts  to  the 
ancient  world,  for  the  work  of  Christ  is  seen  all 
around  us  in  the  characteristics  of  our  own  time. 

Far  away  yonder  in  the  Southern  seas  lies  a  country 
that  we  call  Fiji.  Sixty  years  ago  it  was  barbarous 
and  cannibal.  To  that  dark  land  of  blood  and  the 
shadow  of  death  Christian  Missionaries  went.  They 
toiled,  they  suffered,  they  died,  and  some  of  them 
were  murdered.  Others  took  their  places,  and  these 
also  in  their  turn  suffered  and  died.  They  were  men 
of  no  genius,  but  they  had  a  story  to  tell,  and  they 
told  it.  They  spoke  unceasingly  of  Christ,  of  His 
love,  His  pity,  and  His  death ;  and  they  themselves 
lived  as  those  with  whom  love  was  the  master-word 
of  life.  To-day  Fiji  is  Christian.  Cannibalism  is  no 
more,  virtue  and  truth  are  loved,  brotherhood  reigns, 
and  the  lips  that  once  drank  the  blood  of  the  slain, 
drink  the  cup  of  the  Communion  of  Christ  the  Lord, 

26 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 


You  need  not  go  back  to  the  days  of  the  Roman 
empire  to  discover  what  Christ  has  done  for  hu- 
manity; nothing  in  the  past  is  more  wonderful  than 
this  present-day  story  of  Fiji;  and  Christ  says,  "  If 
ye  believe  me  not  for  my  words'  sake,  believe  me  for 
Fiji's  sake." 

In  the  history  of  the  world  from  time  to  time  men 
arise  who  exercise  a  vast  redemptive  influence  upon 
their  times  —  the  Wesleys,  the  MofFats,  the  Living- 
stones. They  discard  wealth,  reject  ease,  scorn 
fame;  they  are  found  preaching  to  the  brutal  mobs 
who  stone  them,  living  among  the  lowest  of  the  race, 
loving  them,  and  dying  for  them.  They  have  left  us 
in  no  doubt  as  to  the  secret  of  their  lives ;  they  tell 
us  that  the  love  of  Christ  constrained  them.  Christ 
may  be  to  you  a  dim  historic  figure,  but  He  was  not 
so  to  them ;  to  them  He  was  a  real  and  living  Master, 
whose  presence  they  felt,  whose  word  they  obeyed, 
whose  spirit  was  reincarnated  in  them;  and  from 
their  lives  the  challenge  rings,  "  If  ye  believe  not  my 
words,  and  find  in  my  Gospel  nothing  that  moves  or 
interests  you,  then  believe  me  for  Wesley's  sake,  for 
Moffat's  sake,  for  Livingstone's  sake." 

Round  about  us  rise  a  series  of  institutions  of 
which  the  world  in  former  times  never  so  much  as 
dreamed.  We  have  our  hospitals,  our  orphanages, 
our  asylums  for  every  species  of  human  misery.     We 

n 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

have  a  vast  array  of  public  buildings  called  churches, 
and  there  is  not  one  of  them  which  is  not  a  centre 
of  philanthropic  effort  to  befriend  the  weak,  to  help 
the  poor,  to  succour  the  sorrowful.  There  is  not  a 
hospital  in  the  land  that  was  not  built  by  the  hands 
of  this  youth  of  Nazareth.  There  is  not  an  asylum 
for  indigence  and  misery  that  does  not  owe  itself  to 
Calvary.  Abolish  Christianity,  and  in  a  single  gen- 
eration all  would  be  swept  away,  for  it  is  by  the 
munificence  of  Christians,  and  them  alone,  that  such 
hospices  of  mercy  exist.  We  may  find  the  theology 
of  the  Churches  hard  to  be  understood,  and  we  may 
have  no  taste  for  the  casuistries  of  the  theologians; 
Christ  bids  us  turn  from  them  if  we  must,  and  ad- 
dresses us  in  other  words :  "  If  ye  believe  not  Me 
for  my  words'  sake,  believe  me  for  the  sake  of  the 
hospital  and  the  orphanage,  for  the  sake  of  the  pity 
men  have  learned  of  Me,  and  of  the  love  which  I 
have  taught  them." 

It  is  a  common  error  to  treat  Christianity  as  if  it 
were  a  disputable  philosophy ;  it  is  not  a  philosophy, 
it  is  a  practical  fact,  and  a  vital  force.  Do  not  think 
that  you  have  done  with  Christianity  when  you  have 
found  some  glaring  fault  in  its  professors,  or  some 
illogical  passage  in  the  statements  of  its  advocates. 
Christianity  is  the  greatest  phenomenon  in  history, 
and  its  proof  is  its  works.  If  you  have  paid  no  at- 
tention to  that  phenomenon  it  is  no  credit  to  your 

28 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

intelligence.  You  give  eager  attention  enough  to  a 
thousand  other  things  that  are  of  the  very  slightest 
importance,  to  the  pleasures  of  life,  to  what  is  called 
success  in  life,  to  the  theories  of  this  or  that  popular 
teacher,  to  political  or  social  programmes  that  will  be 
forgotten  in  a  year  —  to  sport,  to  amusement,  to 
athletics,  to  the  ephemeral  trivialities  of  a  passing 
literature  —  but  what  think  ye  of  Christ  ?  Have  you 
ever  considered  that  question?  Have  you  ever  given 
one  single  hour  of  earnest  and  continuous  thought  to 
the  phenomenon  of  Jesus?  Have  you  ever  realised 
that  all  you  have  and  are  is  bound  up  in  that  ques- 
tion? Have  you  ever  realised,  in  a  word,  that  the 
question  of  religion  is  the  one  supreme  question,  and 
that  until  man  has  found  the  answer  to  it  he  disquiets 
himself  in  vain,  and  walketh  in  a  vain  show?  That 
is  the  conclusion  I  would  press  home  upon  you.  Go 
home,  and  face  the  question,  "  What  do  I  think  of 
Christ,  what  has  Christ  done  for  me,  what  claim  has 
He  upon  me?"  Go  out  into  the  world  of  business 
to-morrow  and  remember  that  it  is  Christ's  world  you 
live  in,  and  that  you  are  not  your  own,  you  are 
bought  with  a  price.  Go  from  this  church,  and  in 
the  quiet  of  your  own  heart,  clear  and  insistent  above 
all  other  questions  that  agitate  you,  hear  this  divine, 
this  cogent,  this  pathetic  challenge,  "  Believe  me  that 
I  am  in  the  Father,  and  the  Father  in  Me;  or  else 
Believe  Me  for  the  very  works'  sake." 


29 


THE  LAMP  AND  THE  DAY  STAR 


II 

THE  LAMP  AND  THE  DAY  STAR 

"  And  we  have  the  word  of  prophecy  made  more  sure ;  where- 
unto  ye  do  well  to  take  heed,  as  unto  a  lamp  shining  in  a  dark 
place,  until  the  day  dawn,  and  the  day  star  arise  in  your 
heart."—  <2  Peter  i.  19. 

NOTHING  is  more  striking  from  the  point  of 
view  of  psychology  than  the  enormous  effect 
which  Jesus  had  on  the  minds  of  His  immediate  fol- 
lowers. Even  were  we  disposed  to  doubt  the  truth 
of  the  historic  resurrection  of  Jesus,  we  should  find 
it  impossible  to  deny  that  He  rose  again  in  a  very 
real  sense  in  the  lives  of  His  apostles.  The  thoughts 
they  think  are  His  thoughts :  the  hopes  and  emotions 
they  feel  are  His  hopes  and  emotions:  and  we  know 
that  these  thoughts,  hopes  and  emotions  are  totally 
different  from  those  they  once  cherished,  and  are 
even  diametrically  opposed  to  them.  When  St.  Paul 
says,  "  I  live  yet  not  I  but  Christ  liveth  in  me,"  he 
proclaims  this  phenomenon  —  a  phenomenon  so  start- 
ling and  profound  that  it  stands  alone  in  the  history 
of  the  human  mind.  Moreover,  St.  Paul  is  at  pains 
to  tell  us  that  for  a  considerable  period  of  his  life 
Jesus  was  nothing  to  him,  and  that  there  was  not 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

a  thought  in  his  heart  that  was  not  opposed  to  Him. 
And  what  was  true  of  Paul  was  true  of  all  the 
apostles.  They  each  represent  a  new  incarnation  of 
Jesus.  In  each  the  soul  of  Jesus  has  been  re-born : 
born  again  in  the  heart  by  faith,  is  the  apostle's 
phrase.  Thus  we  find  the  whole  mind  of  Peter  pen- 
etrated with  the  sense  of  Jesus.  The  Galilean  fish- 
erman is  extinct ;  Jesus  lives  in  him  the  hope  of  glory. 
One  sublime  image  is  in  all  his  thoughts,  colours  all 
his  writings,  pervades  all  his  emotions  —  and  that  is 
the  image  of  his  Lord.  Past,  present,  and  future 
are  all  focussed  in  Jesus,  and  so  in  this  passage  when 
he  surveys  the  history  of  things  past  and  the  course 
of  things  to  come,  he  perceives  all  alike  in  the  light 
of  Him  who  is  the  Alpha  and  Omega,  the  beginning 
and  the  end,  and  the  bright  and  morning  star  of  Hope 
and  Truth. 

Notice  the  imagery  of  this  passage.  It  is  very 
beautiful  and  poetic  —  a  series  of  pictures  full  of 
significance  and  charm.  You  have  first  a  picture  of 
the  world  and  of  the  human  heart,  as  a  dark  place: 
literally  a  squalid  place,  and  by  this  term  the  Greek 
meant  a  place  without  light  and  without  water.  It 
is  a  region  of  pain  and  dissatisfaction:  a  wilder- 
ness, a  barbarous  place,  a  land  of  darkness  and  the 
shadow  of  death.  But  it  is  not  wholly  dark:  even  in 
this  land  of  gloom  men  move  with  lamps,  searching 
for  a  practicable  way  that  is  firm  and  safe.  These 
men  are  the  prophets,  the  guides,  and  shepherds  of 

34 


THE  LAMP  AND  THE  DAY  STAR 


humanity.  The  lamp  they  carry  is  a  light  unto  the 
feet  —  light  sufficient  for  the  next  step  of  duty,  but 
it  casts  no  extended  ray,  and  paints  the  curtain  of 
impenetrable  darkness  with  a  glimmering  splendour 
only.  Yet  it  is  much  to  have  any  light  in  a  pitch- 
black  night,  and  these  light-bearers  lead  the  host  of 
humanity  on  many  a  crooked  path,  as  a  peasant  with 
a  lamp  may  guide  the  traveller  through  the  defiles  of 
a  mountain  range.  Perhaps  the  very  image  in  the 
mind  of  Peter  is  a  scene  often  witnessed  by  him  in 
the  old  Galilean  days  —  the  shepherd  on  the  hills 
whose  lamp  burns  all  night  beside  the  sleeping  flocks ; 
a  lamp  of  hope  in  the  dark  waste  and  emptiness  of 
night. 

But  now  he  sees  another  thing  also;  the  dawn 
begins  to  break.  The  shepherd's  lamp  burns  dim, 
fades  to  a  tiny  spark,  and  is  extinguished  in  the 
widening  light.  Over  the  wide  glimmering  hills  a 
star  hangs,  and  the  heavens  grow  lucid  round  it,  for 
it  is  the  morning  star.  The  clouds  melt  into  a  veil 
of  gossamer:  one  by  one  the  lamps  are  put  out,  for 
the  long  vigil  is  over,  and  the  day  is  here.  Even 
so,  says  Peter,  God  gave  the  lamps  of  prophecy  in 
the  world's  great  night.  Through  long  ages  the 
prophets,  those  lonely  lamp-bearers,  lighting  the 
world's  advance,  did  their  duty:  until  at  last  the 
morning  star  of  Christ  appeared,  the  day  of  God 
broke  over  Bethlehem  and  Calvary,  and  the  light  of 
the  world  had  come. 

35 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

The  Lamp  and  the  Day  Star, —  Let  us  take  an- 
other illustration,  which  lies  perhaps  within  the 
experience  of  some  of  you.  Suppose  we  were  set- 
ting out  to  climb  some  lonely  Alpine  peak,  what 
would  be  the  method  of  our  advance  ?  The  first  part 
of  the  journey  would  begin  soon  after  midnight. 
Those  who  watched  us  as  we  went  would  see  a  string 
of  lights  moving  up  the  mountain  side,  and  by  these 
glimmering  human  stars  we  should  find  our  way 
through  the  thick  pine  forest,  up  the  steep  moraine, 
across  the  glacier.  Above  us  there  would  rise  a  dome 
of  sky  dark  as  velvet,  and  far  away  the  white  ice 
peaks  would  stand  like  ghostly  sentinels,  each  hooded 
in  his  snows,  silent,  dreadful,  immutable.  But  at 
three  or  four  o'clock,  as  we  gained  some  wide  plateau 
of  snow,  a  halt  would  be  called.  Through  the  silent 
air  a  sigh  of  life  would  rise:  far  away  the  topmost 
peak  would  grow  whiter;  round  us  the  outlines  of 
ice  and  rock  would  emerge  into  distinctness,  and  then 
the  guides  would  extinguish  the  lamps  one  by  one. 
Why?  Because  their  use  was  ended:  the  summer 
dawn  is  near,  and  already  on  the  peaks  the  rose  of 
day  begins  to  burn.  This  is  precisely  the  contrast 
which  is  suggested  in  this  poetic  phrase  of  Peter's. 
Lamps  and  the  morning  star  —  lamps  and  the  sun : 
for  the  people  that  sat  in  darkness  have  seen  a  great 
light.  Uncertainty  is  exchanged  for  certainty:  the 
perilous  path,  half-discerned,  for  the  safe  and  prac- 
ticable way:  the  guesses  of  Philosophy  for  the  per- 

36 


THE  LAMP  AND  THE  DAY  STAR 


feet  day  of  Truth.  The  day  is  come,  for  Christ 
has  come :  put  out  thy  lamp,  O  shepherd  of  the  hills, 
and  thou,  also,  solitary  climber  after  truth,  for  the 
day  star  arises  in  thine  heart,  and 

Out  of  the  shadow  of  night 
The  world  rolls  into  light, 
It  is  daybreak  everywhere. 

The  Lamp  and  the  Day  Star  —  each  may  stand 
as  a  symbol  of  hope  —  the  contrast  suggested  is  a 
contrast  of  degree.  Human  hopes  take  two  forms: 
the  individual  and  the  collective.  Something  in  the 
human  heart  makes  man  hope  for  himself  —  bids  him 
know  he  was  not  made  to  die,  bids  him  seek  a  brighter 
destiny  than  that  which  seems  included  in,  or  indicated 
by,  his  earthly  lot.  And  from  that  personal  hope 
he  passes  naturally  to  that  collective  hope  which  is 
the  spirit  of  human  progress.  Unlike  every  other 
creature  of  this  earth,  man  does  not  take  his  lot  as 
he  finds  it.  He  is  continually  seeking  to  modify  and 
improve  it.  He  is  always  experimenting  in  the  art 
of  living.  To-day  he  is  a  tent-dweller,  to-morrow 
the  builder  of  cities.  He  interrogates  earth  and  air, 
sea  and  sky,  for  their  secrets :  finds  them,  uses  them 
and  shapes  them  to  his  own  demands.  He  invents 
schemes  of  government,  codes  of  law,  maxims  of  con- 
duct. Century  by  century  he  debates  about  these 
things,  clears  and  sifts  his  thoughts,  and  extends 
their  range.     And  in  all  this  he  is  inspired  by  a  be- 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

lief  in  Society ;  he  sees  it  as  an  organism  that  grows, 
and  may  be  helped  in  its  growth,  until  at  last  some- 
thing perfect  shall  be  found,  and  the  desert  shall 
bloom  and  blossom  as  the  rose.  So  man  has  thought 
and  acted  from  the  beginning,  because  as  each  man 
enters  the  world  an  angel  puts  into  his  hand  a  lamp, 
sets  him  on  an  upward  path,  and  bids  him  hope. 

Turn  then  to  the  times  before  Christ,  and  ask, 
what  about  these  hopes?  What  had  they  done  for 
man,  and  to  what  point  had  he  attained?  The 
highest  individual  hope  is  found  in  the  Hebrew  Scrip- 
tures. Were  all  revealed  religion  finally  proclaimed 
incredible,  wTe  should  still  owe  a  debt  to  the  Jew  which 
is  incalculable.  For  the  Jew,  taught  by  his  own  po- 
litical experience  that  from  a  minute  and  despised 
germ  of  life  a  great  nation  might  be  evolved ;  taught 
by  his  own  spiritual  experience  that  virtue  and  right- 
eousness are  the  sole  abiding  realities ;  taught  by  his 
own  intellectual  experience  that  truth  might  be  won 
and  kept,  and  become  the  living  soul  of  nations  — 
the  Jew  has  accomplished  this  imperishable,  this  im- 
measurable service  to  humanity  —  he  has  bid  it  hope. 
Into  the  darkness  and  mystery  of  the  world  he  has 
penetrated  with  a  bolder  step  than  all  his  fellows, 
and  he  has  borne  aloft  a  brighter  lamp.  But  when 
we  begin  to  measure  the  circumference  of  splendour 
cast  by  that  lamp,  we  perceive  at  once  that  it  did 
not  go  very  far.  On  some  problems  wrhere  light  was 
mo?rt  desired,  it  shed  but  a  feeble  and  fluctuating  ray. 

38 


THE  LAMP  AND  THE  DAY  STAR 

Thus  for  example  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  as  a  whole 
say  little  of  personal  immortality.  If  you  turn  to 
the  words  of  Hezekiah  —  one  of  the  wisest  and  most 
pious  of  Jewish  kings,  when  he  is  suddenly  brought 
face  to  face  with  the  unknown  beyond  death  —  you 
will  find  that  that  unknown  holds  nothing  for  him. 
He  clings  vehemently  to  life  and  gives  his  reason 
thus :  "  The  grave  cannot  praise  Thee,  death  can- 
not celebrate  Thee:  they  that  go  down  into  the  pit 
cannot  hope  for  thy  truth."  The  words  of  Job,  in 
spite  of  occasional  and  brief  harp-notes  of  triumph, 
ring  with  the  same  accent  of  entire  mournf ulness : 
death  is  for  him  the  place  of  darkness,  the  house 
of  dust  where  the  very  stones  are  darkness,  and  of 
which  the  best  that  can  be  said  is  that  there  the 
wicked  cease  from  troubling  and  the  weary  are  at 
rest.  There  is  little  to  choose  between  such  passages 
as  these  and  that  great  Assyrian  hymn  of  death, 
called  the  Descent  of  Istar  into  Hades,  which  pictures 
the  abode  of  the  dead  as 

The  house  of  darkness 
The  house  men  enter  but  cannot  depart  from, 
The  road  men  go  but  cannot  return, 
The  house  from  whose  dwellers  the  light  is  withdrawn 
The  place  where  dust  is  their  food,  their  nourishment 

clay. 
The  light  they  behold  not:  in  darkness  they  dwell, 
They  are  clothed  like  birds,  all  fluttering  wings, 
On  the  door  and  the  gate  posts  the  dust  lies  thick, 

69 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

And  so  without  turning  to  many  a  passage  in  the 
Psalms  and  to  the  dreary  words  of  Solomon,  with 
their  unutterable  despair,  we  see  that  the  hopefulness 
of  the  Hebrew  was  far  more  circumscribed  than  we 
supposed.  It  was  a  lamp,  not  the  day  star,  not  the 
day;  it  lit  the  path  of  earthly  duty  with  a  perfect 
light,  but  it  cast  barely  a  ray  into  the  impenetrable 
darkness  of  the  shadow  of  death  and  that  which  lay 
beyond  it. 

The  same  thing  may  be  said,  though  with  some 
modification,  about  the  social  hopes  of  the  Hebrew. 
The  lamp  burned  bright  and  unextinguished  for  many 
an  age,  for  of  all  things  the  surest  thing  to  the  Jew 
was  that  it  is  righteousness  which  ennobles  a  nation. 
He  saw  the  vision  of  a  perfect  society  —  a  society 
God-governed,  God-worshipping  —  the  perfect  vehi- 
cle of  the  divine  will,  the  concrete  expression  of  the 
divine  mind.  But  what  he  also  found  to  be  true  at 
every  point  of  his  history  was  that  he  was  not  effi- 
cient to  create  and  maintain  such  a  society.  He  was 
like  the  artist  who  has  the  genius  to  prepare  the 
scheme  of  a  great  picture,  but  has  not  the  power 
to  complete  it.  Thus  we  have  only  to  turn  to  our 
Gospels  to  discover  that  Jewish  society  as  Christ 
found  it  was  hollow  to  the  core.  It  was,  as  He  said, 
in  an  image  at  once  startling  and  dreadful,  a  whited 
sepulchre,  full  of  dead  men's  bones  and  all  unclean- 
ness.  Religious  and  moral  progress  had  come  to  a 
standstill.     The  priesthood  was  powerful  and  impos- 

40 


THE  LAMP  AND  THE  DAY  STAR 

ing  but  corrupt :  the  leaders  of  the  nation  learned  in 
the  pedantry  of  learning,  but  insincere  in  belief,  im- 
moral in  conduct,  and  hypocrites  in  temper  and  prac- 
tice. The  lamp  had  shown  the  way,  but  had  not  led 
men  to  the  height :  and  as  the  ages  passed  it  had  ever 
burned  dimmer,  till  the  way  itself  grew  indistinct.  It 
was  a  lamp  whose  light  was  dying  in  the  socket  — 
not  a  day  star,  not  the  pure  unvanquishable  dawn; 
the  light  of  a  lamp  upon  the  vast  interminable  ice- 
slopes  of  human  duty. 

And  if  we  pass  beyond  the  Jew  to  that  great  Pagan 
world  which  surrounded  him,  we  find  things  im- 
measurably worse.  Both  the  Greek  and  the  Roman 
had  given  up  hope  of  any  spiritual  destiny  beyond 
death.  As  for  society  it  had  reached  its  climax  —  it 
stood  still.  Here  and  there  a  philosopher  still  talked 
nobly  of  his  ideal  republic,  as  Plato  did;  but  none 
listened,  and  none  cared  to  listen.  For,  of  this  great 
Pagan  world,  ruled  by  the  splendid  but  monotonous 
Roman  order,  it  was  emphatically  true  that  the  whole 
scheme  of  society  seemed  fixed  and  immutable.  If 
change  came  at  all  it  would  be  change  for  the  worse : 
and  indeed  already  much  had  changed  for  the  worse, 
for  the  old  simple  religious  beliefs,  the  primitive  man- 
liness and  virtue  of  the  Roman  were  as  stars  extin- 
guished in  the  gathering  night  of  a  general  deprav- 
ity. If  men  looked  forward  it  was  not  with  hope; 
it  was  to  cry 


41 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

Here  is  the  moral  of  all  human  tales, 
'Tis  but  the  same  rehearsal  of  the  past, 
First  freedom  and  then  glory;  when  that  fails, 
Wealth,  vice,  corruption  —  barbarism  at  last. 

So  far  the  lamps  of  human  wisdom  had  led  men, 
but  no  further,  and  the  place  in  which  it  now  shone 
was  a  dark  place  indeed,  for  hope  scarcely  illumined 
it  at  all,  and  in  it  the  waters  of  peace  and  life  were 
not  found. 

And  now  listen  to  the  sublime  and  inspired  speech 
of  Peter:  a  lamp  shining  in  a  dark  place,  until  the 
day  dawn,  and  the  day  star  arise  in  your  hearts.  Do 
not  the  words  lead  us  back  at  once  to  those  green 
pastures  where  shepherds  watched  their  flocks  by 
night  and  suddenly  heard  a  great  company  of  the 
heavenly  host  proclaiming  peace  and  good  will  to 
man?  Is  he  not  thinking  of  the  Star  which  arose  in 
the  East,  and  stood  still  over  the  manger-cradle 
where  the  young  child  lay?  Are  not  these  shepherds, 
and  these  wise  men  whose  lamps  hang  extinguished 
because  the  glory  of  the  Lord  shone  around  them, 
types  of  the  world's  sages  and  prophets  whose  lamps 
of  wisdom  paled  their  ineffectual  ray,  because  at  last 
the  day  star  rises,  and  the  morning  breaks?  For 
this  and  no  other  was  precisely  what  did  happen  with 
the  coming  of  Christ.  He  came  as  the  Light  of  the 
world,  bringing  with  Him  all  the  fresh  hope  and 
splendour  of  the  morning.  For  man  the  individual, 
immeasurable  hope  —  the  shadow  of  death  gone,  and 

42 


THE  LAMP  AND  THE  DAY  STAR 

life  and  immortality  brought  to  light  by  the  Gospel. 
For  man  collectively,  that  is  for  society,  immeasur- 
able hope  also:  the  old  order  changed  and  giving 
place  to  new,  and  the  spirit  of  progress  once  more 
passing  over  the  dark  void,  and  quickening  it.  Man 
rises  up  and  sees  the  peaks  of  God  afar,  the  immortal 
summits  long  hidden  in  the  night,  or  visible  only  like 
vague  shadows  in  the  gloom,  and  presses  on  to  a 
destiny  such  as  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  nor 
the  heart  of  man  conceived.  Society  long  stagnant, 
fixed  and  immutable,  begins  to  move  also,  and  the 
spirit  of  progress  is  abroad.  The  Roman  order  gives 
place  to  a  diviner  order,  the  empire  of  the  Cassars 
to  the  Kingdom  of  God,  the  religion  of  force  and 
terror  to  the  religion  of  humanity.  It  was  not  only 
Christ  who  was  born  in  Bethlehem  —  the  world  itself 
was  born  anew  there.  All  history  ranks  itself,  not 
by  the  caprice  of  the  ecclesiastic,  but  by  force  of 
natural  affinity,  into  that  which  came  before  Christ, 
and  that  which  happened  after.  The  most  sceptical 
of  historians  must  needs  admit  the  classification: 
whatever  happened  in  Bethlehem,  this  he  knows,  that 
a  force  was  bom  there  that  transformed  the  world. 
That  force  was  the  Birth  of  Light;  the  lamps  that 
lit  the  night  are  gone,  the  prophets'  toil  and  the 
shepherds'  vigil  are  fulfilled.  The  Day  star  has 
risen,  and  behind  it  comes  the  Day  streaming  into 
the  dark  heart  of  man,  illumining  the  way  of  Truth, 
glittering  on  the  far  off  pinnacles  of  the  city  of  God, 

43 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

filling  even  the  pathways  of  the  tomb  with  an  im- 
mortal sunshine  —  the  Day  has  come,  for  Christ  has 
come. 

Lamps  and  the  Morning  Star. —  Such  a  contrast 
further  teaches  us  how  we  should  regard  the  ancient 
religions  of  the  world.  There  was  a  time  not  far 
removed  when  Christian  men  refused  to  hear  a  good 
word  for  any  other  religion  than  Christianity  because 
they  imagined  that  it  was  necessary  to  minify  and 
even  defame  every  other  system  of  religious  thought 
in  order  to  magnify  Christianity.  That  was  not  the 
spirit  of  Christ :  He  came  not  to  destroy  but  to  fulfil 
all  the  broken  hints  of  truth  and  goodness  in  all  the 
long  course  of  human  thought  and  conduct.  These 
ancient  religions  were  the  lamps  lit  by  the  human 
soul  in  a  dark  place.  Light  is  always  light,  and  the 
feeblest  light  is  really  lit  at  the  sun,  which  is  the 
source  of  all  light.  And  a  spark  of  the  true  light 
shone  in  the  soul  of  Confucius  when  five  hundred 
years  before  Christ,  he  formulated  his  golden  rule, 
"  What  you  do  not  wish  done  to  yourself,  do  not  do 
to  others."  It  shone  in  Zoroaster,  it  shone  in  Socra- 
tes, it  shone  conspicuously  in  Buddha.  All  honour 
to  the  lamp  bearers  of  humanity,  by  whatever  name 
they  were  called.  All  honour  to  the  men  of  spiritual 
genius,  who  in  every  age  held  aloft  the  torch  of 
truth,  and,  dying,  passed  it  on,  so  that  the  world 
should  not  stumble  and  wholly  fall  in  the  dense  gloom 
of  ignorance  and  folly.     But  they  were  lamp  bearers 

44 


THE  LAMP  AND  THE  DAY  STAR 

only.  They  illumined  one  little  section  of  human 
thought  —  one  brief  step  upon  the  way ;  when  the 
Day  comes  all  is  illumined.  And  as  the  day  literally 
fulfils  the  broken  gleams  of  starry  fire  that  pierced 
the  night,  so  Christ  fulfils  all  that  Confucius  and 
Buddha  taught,  all  that  Socrates  and  Zoroaster 
hoped.  The  lamp  is  quenched  because  the  morning 
grows.  And  when  we  take  Christ  to  the  great  na- 
tions of  the  East,  it  is  not  in  a  spirit  of  contempt 
for  the  only  religion  they  know ;  it  is  rather  with 
thankfulness  to  God  that  they  have  any  religion,  and 
that  God  hath  not  left  Himself  without  a  witness  in 
their  hearts ;  and  when  we  preach  Christ  under  the 
shadow  of  Chinese  pagodas  and  Indian  temples,  it 
is  only  that  we  may  change  the  lamps  of  Confucius 
and  Buddha  for  the  brightness  of  the  morning  star; 
for  Christ  is  the  desire  of  all  nations,  and  these  great 
creators  of  religious  thought  in  a  hundred  nations 
kept  vigil  till  He  appeared,  were  His  unconscious 
light  bearers,  and  were  as  those  who  watched  for 
the  coming  of  the  morning,  even  of  the  perfect  day 
of  Him  who  is  the  Light  of  life. 

Lamps  and  the  Morning  Star, —  Perhaps  some  of 
you  will  say,  But  after  all  is  not  this  exquisite  story 
of  the  birth  of  Jesus  mere  legend;  may  it  not  also 
be  pure  myth?  Let  us  concede  that  it  is  both  myth 
and  legend  if  you  will,  as  Mr.  Grant  Allen  contends 
in  his  latest  and  most  serious  contribution  to  litera- 
ture, but  even  then,  there  are  two  indisputable  and 

45 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

obstinate  truths  to  be  resolved;  one  is  that  something 
happened,  and  that  that  something  changed  the 
world;  the  other  is  that  mere  myths  do  not  change 
the  world.  It  is  this  very  accusation  of  the  mythical 
character  of  Christianity  which  Peter  answers  in  his 
Epistle,  when  he  says  he  has  not  followed  cunningly 
devised  fables,  for  he  was  an  eye  witness  of  the 
majesty  of  Christ  and  had  had  every  opportunity 
which  the  most  incredulous  could  desire  of  learning 
the  truth  at  the  fountain  head.  And  again,  he  him- 
self, a  changed  man,  moving  among  changed  men, 
with  a  Christian  church  growing  up  around  him 
which  is  already  beginning  to  profoundly  influence 
the  Roman  empire,  is  a  witness  that  something  hap- 
pened and  is  happening.  Jesus  for  him  was  no  myth, 
he  had  sat  with  Him  at  the  last  supper,  he  had  seen 
Him  die  upon  the  cross.  His  birth  was  no  legend; 
he  had  known  those  who  had  watched  His  childhood, 
and  had  pondered  in  their  hearts  the  story  of  Beth- 
lehem. It  was  not  a  myth  which  was  finding  its  way 
into  every  corner  of  the  empire  and  had  its  converts 
in  Caesar's  household  also;  it  was  rather  the  light  of 
a  great  reality,  a  supreme  revelation.  He  stood 
amid  the  dying  lamps  of  the  ancient  world,  as  one 
may  stand  in  a  great  city  when  the  night  departs, 
and  he  saw  the  Day  grow  round  him.  He  could  not 
be  mistaken :  and  if  he  could,  we  cannot ;  for  from 
the  moment  that  the  star  rested  over  Bethlehem,  the 

46 


THE  LAMP  AND  THE  DAY  STAR 

whole  world  has  grown  brighter.  And  to  that  world 
that  was,  that  dark  hard  world  where 

Weariness  and  sated  lust 
Made  human  life  a  hell, 

—  that  midnight  world,  with  its  faint  and  scattered 
lamps  of  truth,  we  are  not  likely  to  go  back,  even 
upon  the  invitation  of  Mr.  Grant  Allen.  We  have 
seen  the  Day:  let  those  prefer  the  night  who  will. 
We  have  exchanged  the  lamp  for  the  morning  star  — 
we  are  not  likely  to  repent  our  choice.  Light  of 
Hope  and  Light  of  Truth,  still  grow  brighter,  is  our 
cry:  Thy  Kingdom  come:  and  to  those  who  see  it 
not,  those  who  are  blind  amid  the  blaze  of  noon,  those 
who  still  grope  at  the  altars  of  a  dead  paganism,  and 
stumble  on  the  tombs  of  a  long-buried  philosophy, 
we  can  but  utter  the  great  apostolic  appeal,  "  Awake, 
thou  that  sleepest,  and  arise  from  the  dead,  and  Christ 
shall  give  thee  light." 

And  so  the  words  of  Peter  take  us  back  to  Beth- 
lehem. Dark  lies  the  Jewish  plain,  dark  rise  the 
Syrian  hills,  hushed  lie  the  pastures  and  the  sheep; 
and  on  these  hills,  invisible,  stand  men  of  majestic 
presence,  the  great  spirits  of  the  past  —  Moses,  Sam- 
uel, David,  Isaiah,  and  that  Elijah  who  was  a  burn- 
ing and  a  shining  light  —  they  stand  and  wait. 
"  Watchman  what  of  the  night  ?  "  But  no  voice 
answers  from  the  sleeping  pastures,  and  the  world 

47 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

lies  dumb.  "Watchman  what  of  the  night?  Our 
lamps  go  out,  and  something  tells  us  that  our  long 
vigil  is  nearly  done."  But  none  replies :  the  heavens 
are  very  still,  and  up  the  road  to  the  little  town  of 
Bethlehem,  climb  two  weary  pilgrims  for  whom  there 
is  no  room  in  the  inn.  "  Watchman  what  of  the 
night?  "  And  now  behold  the  fugitives  have  reached 
their  humble  shelter,  and  a  child's  voice  floats  out 
upon  the  frosty  air,  and  a  whisper  runs  across  the 
world  — "  The  night  is  departing."  Lonely  watch- 
ers, majestic  prophets  of  the  truth,  depart  ye  also  to 
your  rest  —  the  world  is  safe,  for  God  hath  entered 
it.  He  enters  it  in  the  garb  of  a  little  child.  He 
enters  it  —  and  light  enters  with  Him :  for  suddenly 
a  great  glory  floods  the  earth,  and  a  multitude  of  the 
heavenly  host  sing 

Glory  to  God  in  the  highest 

And  on  earth  peace,  good  will  among  men. 

So  is  Christ  born  in  Bethlehem  of  Judea,  and  from 
land  to  land  there  flies  the  news,  "  The  night  is  gone, 
the  long  expected  Day  has  come." 


48 


THE  SOVEREIGNTY  OF  GOD 


Ill 

THE  SOVEREIGNTY  OF  GOD 

"  When  He  giveth  quietness  who  then  can  make  trouble,  and 
when  He  hideth  His  face  who  then  can  behold  Him  ?  " —  Job. 
xxxiv.  29. 

THE  Book  of  Job  deals  in  dramatic  form  with 
the  most  solemn  of  all  problems,  the  Mystery 
of  Human  suffering.  It  is  tb-  greatest  dramatic 
poem  in  the  world,  and  in  all  the  centuries  which 
have  elapsed  since  its  production,  human  thought 
never  soared  higher,  nor  plumbed  deeper  into  the 
mystery  of  things.  It  does  not  pretend  wholly  to 
solve  the  problem  of  suffering,  but  it  advances  five 
theories,1  each  one  of  which  is  eagerly  debated,  and 
all  of  which  are  finally  swallowed  up  in  the  glory  of 
the  Divine  intervention.  The  first  theory  is  that 
suffering  is  the  test  of  saintship,  and  that  by  the 
endurance  of  suffering,  human  nature  arrives  at 
saintship  —  a  theory  which  Job  himself  favours, 
when  he  finally  says,  "  He  knoweth  the  way  that  I 
take;  when  He  hath  tried  me,  I  shall  come  forth  as 
gold."     The  second  theory  is:  that  all  suffering  is 

i  The  analysis  is  borrowed  from  Professor  Moulton's  mas- 
terly introduction  on  the  Book  of  Job. 

51 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

in  some  way  a  judgment  upon  sin,  a  theory  which 
Job  indignantly  repudiates,  because  he  is  unable  to 
accuse  himself  of  any  wrong-doing,  which  could 
justly  merit  punishment  so  monstrous.  A  third  the- 
ory is  that  suffering  is  sent  to  call  men  to  repentance, 
and  is  thus  a  mercy  since  by  repentance  man  may 
avert  total  destruction  —  a  theory  to  which  Job 
shows  himself  entirely  indifferent.  A  fourth  theory 
is  that  the  whole  universe  is  full  of  mystery,  and  the 
mystery  of  evil  is  not  greater  than  the  mystery  of 
good  —  a  theory  hinted  at  in  this  passage  of  the 
drama,  "  God  hides  His  face,  who  then  can  behold 
Him  " :  i.  e.,  who  can  pretend  to  read  the  reasons  why 
God  performs  any  act  whatever?  A  fifth  theory  is 
that  the  right  attitude  toward  mystery  is  entire  faith, 
and  that  mystery  is  thus  necessary  to  the  growth  of 
faith,  and  is  as  the  dews  of  Eden  that  keep  the 
garden  of  the  soul  fresh  —  a  theory  which  finds 
ample  illustration  in  the  way  in  which  Job  endures 
his  trial.  Thus  the  thoughts  of  men  circle  round 
the  problem  of  suffering,  and  the  ages  have  not 
changed  these  thoughts.  Job  is  still  afflicted  in  a 
thousand  homes:  Job's  comforters  still  appear  in  a 
thousand  schemes  of  philosophy  and  religion:  and 
the  endless  drama  still  enacts  itself  on  a  stage  where 
mournful  trumpets  blow,  and  tears  fall,  and  the  som- 
bre pageant  of  sorrow  unfolds  itself  before  those 
who  are  the  witnesses  of  pain  to-day,  and  may  be  its 
victims  to-morrow. 

52 


THE      SOVEREIGNTY     OF     GOD 

But  you  will  observe  that  toward  one  point  all 
these  conflicting  theories  converge,  and  that  is  the 
truth  of  the  absolute  sovereignty  of  God.  The  one 
thing  that  is  doubted  by  no  one  in  the  drama,  is  that 
God  reigns.  The  Potter  may  or  may  not  act  un- 
justly by  His  clay,  but  none  can  deny  His  right.  If 
it  be  God's  will  to  afflict  Job,  who  shall  say  Him  nay? 
This  is  of  course  one  of  the  oldest,  as  it  is  one  of 
the  saddest,  thoughts  in  the  world.  You  catch  its 
echo  in  some  of  the  more  despairing  utterances  of  the 
Hebrew  prophets,  and  particularly  in  Jeremiah's 
great  parable  of  the  Potter  and  the  Wheel.  You 
have  it  distinctly  stated  in  the  poetry  of  the  Persian 
Omar,  who  flourished  in  the  first  quarter  of  our 
Twelfth  century  —  when  he  cries  that  we  are  all 

But  helpless  Pieces  of  the  game  He  plays, 
Upon  this  chequer-board  of  nights  and  days: 
Hither  and  thither  moves,  and  checks  and  slays, 
And  one  by  one  back  in  the  closet  lays. 

You  have  it  stated  afresh  with  infinite  bitterness  in 
the  concluding  words  of  Hardy's  "  Tess  " —  "  Jus- 
tice was  done:  and  the  President  of  the  Immortals 
had  ended  His  sport  with  Tess."  And  Hardy  him- 
self in  using  the  phrase  sends  us  back  to  the  old 
Greek  dramatists,  all  of  whom  felt  a  terror  of  the 
Gods,  and  felt  themselves  impotent  before  their  wrath 
and  their  injustice.  The  absolute  sovereignty  of 
God,  the  indeterminable  power  of  the  Creator  over 

53 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

His  creatures,  His  perfect  right  to  do  as  He  will 
with  man,  regardless  either  of  the  merit  or  demerit 
of  the  individual  —  this  is,  as  I  have  said,  one  of 
the  oldest  as  it  is  one  of  the  saddest  thoughts  of  the 
world,  and  has  filled  the  human  heart  with  terror  and 
misgiving. 

But  you  will  observe  at  once  that  this  thought  is 
very  far  from  producing  in  Elihu  either  sadness  or 
incurable  despair.  Elihu  is  the  youngest  of  the 
speakers  in  the  drama,  and  he  speaks  with  all  the 
confidence  of  youth,  with  all  its  optimism,  with  all 
its  sense  of  having  obtained  a  new  knowledge  denied 
to  the  elders.  How  far  his  wisdom  surpassed  theirs 
it  is  not  for  us  now  to  discuss,  but  it  will  be  seen  at 
once  that  he  uses  this  tremendous  truth  of  the  ab- 
solute sovereignty  of  God  in  a  new  way,  and  draws 
from  it  not  the  lessons  of  despair  but  of  hope.  It 
affects  him  in  two  ways.  He  first  states  the  absolute 
apportionment  of  good  in  men's  lives  — "  When  He 
giveth  quietness,  who  then  can  make  trouble  ? " 
Whatever  we  may  or  may  not  know  of  God,  we  do 
know  that  He  gives  good  gifts  to  men  —  that  He  gives 
some  good  gift  to  every  man,  and  from  that  we  may 
argue  that  in  the  main  His  government  of  the  world 
is  not  cruel  or  unjust.  The  second  thing  he  states  is 
the  concealment  of  the  Highest  Good,  which  is  the 
vision  of  God,  the  perfect  knowledge  of  His  ways  — 
"  When  God  hideth  His  face,  who  then  can  behold 
Him?"     In   all  lives,   and   even   in   those  which  we 

54 


THE      SOVEREIGNTY     OF     GOD 

may  variously  call  the  happiest  or  the  most  fortunate, 
there  is  something  hidden,  something  withdrawn,  a 
door  of  mystery  which  no  key  of  earth  can  unlock. 
There  is  the  hidden  face  of  God,  hidden  from  us,  as 
it  was  from  His  own  Son,  when  He  cried  in  the  lonely 
darkness  of  the  cross,  Eloi,  Eloi,  lama  sabachthani. 
There  are  things  that  happen  to  us  for  which  no 
explanation  is  vouchsafed,  and  for  which  none  seems 
possible.  In  the  journey  of  life  we  all  find  ourselves 
at  some  time  or  other  confronted  by  the  Sphinx  of 
the  desert,  the  inscrutable  face  with  sightless  eyes 
that  stare  right  on,  and  the  lips  that  utter  nothing, 
and  we  hear  the  wind  of  the  desert,  and  the  prophets 
of  the  wind,  who  cry 

Hushed  in  the  infinite  dark  at  the  end  ye  shall  be 
Restless  feverish  souls  that  travail  and  yearn; 
Lo,  we  have  lifted  the  Veil  —  there  is  nothing  to  see ; 
Lo,  we  have  looked  on  the  Scroll  —  there  was  nothing 
to  learn. 

Elihu  does  not  accept  this  despairing  verdict,  but  he 
does  argue  that  no  perfect  solution  of  the  universe 
is  possible,  that  mystery  is  necessary  in  the  education 
of  man,  and  that  man  was  never  meant  to  know,  at 
least  while  upon  the  earth,  the  full  explanation  of 
God's  ways,  which  are  past  finding  out.  And  this 
leads  him  to  a  third  thought  which  is  implied  rather 
than  expressed,  viz.,  the  wisdom  and  joy  of  a  com- 
plete surrender  to  God.     "  What  is  man  that  thou 

55 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

takest  account  of  him,"  said  the  Hebrew  Psalmist  — 
for  God  does  take  account  of  man,  and  man  is  there- 
fore safe  with  God.  "  I  can  look  on  terrible  things 
with  a  steadier  eye,"  says  one  of  our  modern  proph- 
ets, "  knowing  as  I  do,  that  the  world  is  not  left  to 
itself,  but  has  a  King  who  is  its  Redeemer."  And  to 
this  truth  Job  himself  assents  when  he  says,  "  Though 
he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  him  " ;  he  had  then 
"  reached  his  climax,"  he  had  found  the  quietness 
which  God  gives  in  the  midst  of  trouble,  and,  while 
he  dwelt  in  that  refuge,  no  arrows  of  outrageous 
fortune  had  power  to  wound  him.  So  then  we  see 
that  the  indisputable  sovereignty  of  God  is  capable 
of  being  stated  in  a  way  very  different  from  that 
of  Omar,  or  Euripides,  or  Thomas  Hardy.  It  makes 
not  for  despair,  but  for  the  peace  that  passeth  all 
understanding.  It  lifts  man  out  of  the  transient,  and 
gives  him  safe  anchorage  in  the  eternal.  It  makes 
him  say  with  one  of  the  great  and  true  poets  of  our 
time  — 

It  fortifies  my  soul  to  know 
That  tho'  I  perish,  Truth  is  so: 
That  howso'er  I  stray  or  range, 
Whate'er  I  do,  Thou  dost  not  change, 
I  steadier  step  when  I  recall, 
That,  if  I  slip,  Thou  dost  not  fall. 

In  all  lives  there  is  the  hidden  thing  which  is  signified 
in  the  darkened  face  of  God,  in  all  lives  also  there 
may  be  the  divine  quietness  of  faith ;  and  it  is  on  the 

56 


THE      SOVEREIGNTY     OF     GOD 

truth  of  the  Divine  sovereignty  that  man  bases  all 
his  faith,  and  enduring  to  the  end  is  saved. 

And  now  let  us  turn  from  the  statement  and  dis- 
cussion of  these  thoughts,  which  we  all  feel  to  be 
abstract  and  difficult,  to  the  illustrations  of  them 
which  we  find  in  general  human  experience.  The 
value  of  an  abstract  thought  is  its  practical  effect  on 
human  conduct.  What  effect  on  human  conduct  has 
this  sublime  thought  of  the  sovereignty  of  God  had : 
for  of  all  philosophies  as  of  all  lives  Christ's  word 
holds  true  — "  By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them." 

Turn,  for  example,  to  the  life  of  St.  Paul.  That 
life  touched  on  agony  of  vicissitude  which  few  lives 
have  known,  and  a  mere  recital  of  its  sorrows  might 
appal  the  bravest.  It  knew  hunger,  thirst,  and 
weariness,  the  alienation  of  friends,  and  the  most 
murderous  hatred  of  enemies;  the  loss  of  all  things, 
and  of  the  things  that  noble  men  value  most,  not 
goods  and  wealth,  but  honour,  esteem,  and  respect: 
it  knew  physical  suffering  so  intense  that  Paul  spoke 
of  himself  as  in  deaths  oft  and  dying  daily :  it  knew 
a  contempt  from  men  so  complete,  that  he  says  he 
had  become  as  the  off  scouring  of  all  things:  it  knew 
at  last  a  violent  death  by  martyrdom.  The  suffer- 
ings of  Job,  great  as  they  were,  are  not  comparable 
with  the  sufferings  of  Paul.  And  Paul  knew  also  the 
withdrawn  face  of  God,  the  denied  prayer,  the 
neglected  appeal,  the  thorn  in  the  flesh  which  caused 
him  incurable  and  immitigable  torture  to  his  life's 

57 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

end.  Yet  you  will  find  that  the  dominant  note  of 
Paul's  life  is  triumph.  He  not  merely  does  not  com- 
plain of  his  sufferings,  but  he  rejoices  in  them.  His 
letters  are  not  a  tragic  drama  like  the  Book  of  Job: 
they  are  as  the  music  of  trumpets  pealing  round  the 
dark  dome  of  life,  a  sound  of  "  harping  symphonies 
and  sevenfold  hallelujahs!"  And  as  you  search  his 
writings  for  the  secret,  you  find  it  in  the  eighth  chap- 
ter of  his  Epistle  to  the  Romans  — "  Whom  he  did 
predestinate,  them  he  also  called :  and  whom  he  called, 
them  he  also  justified:  and  whom  he  justified,  them 
he  also  glorified.  What  shall  we  then  say  to  these 
things  ?     If  God  be  for  us,  who  can  be  against  us  ?  " 

There  you  have  the  secret;  the  belief  in  the  ab- 
solute sovereignty  of  God,  the  sense  of  the  pre-de- 
termined,  and  the  consequent  knowledge  that  nothing 
can  happen  to  him  for  which  God  has  not  a  reason, 
and  a  wise  reason.  He  is  God-inebriated,  God-filled: 
lifted  beyond  the  earth  on  wings  of  ecstasy :  "  sure 
of  God  as  he  is  sure  of  life,"  and  in  a  loftier  language 
constantly  repeats  the  saying  of  Elihu  — "  When 
God  giveth  quietness,  who  then  can  make  trouble? 
if  God  be  for  us,  who  can  be  against  us  ?  " 

A  man  may  of  course  retort,  and  no  doubt  the 
question  is  already  on  our  lips,  but  how  can  a  man 
know  that  God  is  with  him?  The  answer  is  that 
man  may  be  with  God,  by  a  complete  surrender  to 
the  will  of  God.  "  I  hope  God  will  be  on  our  side," 
was  a  remark  made  to  Abraham  Lincoln,  in  the  dark 

58 


THE     SOVEREIGNTY     OF     GOD 

days  when  America  was  torn  by  fratricidal  strife. 

"  Sir,"  said  Lincoln,  "  I  have  never  yet  asked  my- 
self whether  God  was  on  my  side  or  not,  but  I  tell 
you  what,  Sir,  I  am  determined  to  be  on  God's  side." 
And  if  any  man  asks  me  what  is  effectual  calling, 
I  say  that  you  have  the  answer  in  that  pregnant 
speech  of  Lincoln's.  A  man  is  on  God's  side  who  is 
on  the  side  of  truth,  and  righteousness,  and  virtue: 
for  something  in  the  bosom  of  the  humblest  man 
tells  him  that  these  things  are  dear  to  God.  He  is 
effectually  called  when  he  sets  his  soul  on  these 
things,  and  turns  his  face  toward  God's  Zion.  And 
those  who  are  called,  and  obey  the  call,  God  shall 
justify:  and  those  whom  He  justifies,  He  shall 
glorify.  They  who  are  upon  God's  side  of  truth, 
right,  and  virtue,  alone  have  the  right  to  say  that 
God  is  for  them.  They  alone  grasp  the  secret  of 
the  Divine  Sovereignty.  And  since  all  men  can  be 
upon  God's  side,  if  they  will,  all  men  may  know  the 
security  and  triumph  of  a  peace  which  lifts  them  far 
above  all  the  vicissitudes  of  earthly  life,  and  teaches 
them  to  say  out  of  the  sacred  silence  of  the  sanctified 
and  surrendered  heart,  "  When  God  giveth  quietness, 
who  then  shall  make  trouble?  " 

Turn  again  to  history.  It  is  not  surprising  that 
more  and  more  the  thoughts  of  cultured  Englishmen 
are  turned  toward  the  great  Puritan  movement,  for 
it  gives  us  the  key  to  all  that  is  most  vital  and  endur- 
ing in  national  character.     But  the  more  that  move- 

59 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

ment  is  studied  the  clearer  does  it  become  that  its 
political  force  was  really  incidental  —  its  real  force 
was  religious.  One  need  not  recall  the  speeches  of 
Cromwell,  the  despatches  of  Blake,  the  psalms  sung 
upon  the  battlefield  —  these  are  things  familiar  to 
us:  but  they  all  illustrate  one  truth,  the  sense  of  the 
sovereignty  of  God  which  made  the  Puritan  what  he 
was.  Those  who  see  the  Puritan  only  on  the  battle- 
field and  in  the  council  chamber  see  but  one  part  of 
him:  there  is  yet  a  nobler  part  portrayed  in  his  re- 
ligious experiences.  It  is  no  more  than  bare  truth 
that  Macaulay  states  of  Puritanism  when  he  says, 
"  One  overpowering  sentiment  had  subjugated  to 
itself  pity  and  hatred,  ambition  and  fear.  Death  had 
lost  its  terror  and  pleasure  its  charms.  They  had 
their  smiles  and  their  tears,  their  raptures  and  sor- 
rows, but  not  for  the  things  of  this  world.  The 
intensity  of  their  feelings  on  one  subject  made  them 
tranquil  on  every  other."  On  what  subject  we  ask? 
On  this  tremendous  subject  of  the  sovereignty  of 
God.  If  they  cared  little  for  kings,  it  was  because 
they  were  devoted  to  the  King  of  Kings  and  Lord  of 
Lords:  if  they  despised  priests,  it  was  because  they 
knew  themselves  priests  unto  God  by  the  mystery  of 
a  divine  call,  and  a  truer  ordination.  They  also 
knew  the  mystery  of  the  hidden  face  of  God  —  and 
of  that  let  the  tears  of  Fleetwood,  and  the  cries  of 
Cromwell  bear  witness.  They  knew  calamity:  but 
they  also  knew  how  to  triumph  over  it.     John  Milton 

60 


THE      SOVEREIGNTY     OF     GOD 

knew  the  worst  calamity  that  can  happen  to  the  man 
of  letters  —  the  total  loss  of  sight ;  but  he  uttered  no 
petulant  complaint,  and  he  might  well  have  written 
the  noble  lines  which  a  modern  poet  has  put  into  his 
mouth ;  — 

I  have  naught  to  fear, 
This  darkness  is  the  shadow  of  Thy  wing ; 
Beneath  it  I  am  almost  sacred:  here 

Can  come  no  evil  thing. 

And  John  Milton  would  have  said,  not  by  way  of 
accusation,  but  in  vindication  of  the  ways  of  God 
with  man,  "  Hath  not  the  Potter  power  over  the  clay 
to  do  with  it  as  He  will?  "  The  sense  of  the  Divine 
sovereignty  did  not  depress  him:  it  inspired  him. 
And  it  was  the  same  with  all  the  Puritans.  The  one 
subject  on  which  their  feelings  were  intense  was  the 
relation  in  which  they  stood  to  God:  once  sure  of 
that,  once  convinced  that  God  reigned  and  that  they 
were  called  to  be  His  children,  His  servants,  and  the 
sheep  of  His  pasture  —  they  were  tranquil  on  every 
other  subject,  and  could  say, "  When  God  giveth 
quietness,  who  then  can  make  trouble?  " 

Or  turn  to  modern  biography,  and  recall  the 
spiritual  struggles  of  Carlyle,  and  the  great  emanci- 
pation which  he  won  for  himself,  and  for  multitudes 
who  through  his  words  have  been  made  wise  unto 
salvation.  He  himself  has  told  us  how  he  won  that 
emancipation ;  "  God  over  all,  God  through  all,  and 

61 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

God  in  us  all  "  was  the  sum  and  substance  of  his  Gos- 
pel. It  is  expressed  again  and  again  in  all  his  works. 
When  he  rides  by  night  past  the  old  churchyard 
where  the  dead  he  loved  were  buried,  an  infinite  peace 
comes  upon  him  in  the  sense  that  God  is  over  all. 
When  the  book  on  which  he  based  all  his  hopes  is 
burned,  he  speaks  of  the  calamity  as  the  chastise- 
ment of  his  invisible  schoolmaster,  and  says,  "  What 
can  I  sorrowing  do  but  obey  —  obey  and  think  it  the 
best !  "  When  he  writes  his  magnificent  description 
of  the  night  before  the  battle  of  Dunbar  the  same 
note  makes  itself  heard  — "  The  hoarse  sea  moans 
bodeful,  swinging  low  and  heavy  against  these  whin- 
stone  baj-s:  the  sea  and  the  tempest  are  abroad,  and 
all  else  asleep  but  we  —  and  there  is  One  that  rides 
upon  the  wings  of  the  wind."  The  Divine  Sov- 
ereignty once  more :  the  steadfast  sense  that  the  world 
is  rightly  governed,  that  what  we  call  histories  and 
events  is  but  God  working  —  this  was  the  strength  of 
Carlyle's  soul,  it  was  upon  this  he  based  his  life,  and 
it  is  this  conviction  that  has  given  him  an  influence 
on  the  best  minds  of  the  world,  such  as  no  other  man 
since  the  days  of  the  Hebrew  prophets  has  wielded. 

Or  turn  to  modern  imaginative  literature.  Much 
of  it  is  mere  coloured  froth:  some  of  it  glitters  with 
the  iridescent  hues  of  decay:  but  here  and  there  a 
book  emerges  which  is  what  a  good  book  should  be, 
"  The  precious  life  blood  of  a  master  spirit."  Take 
up  the  Window  in  Thrums,  for  example,  and  turn 

62 


THE      SOVEREIGNTY     OF     GOD 

to  the  pathetic  sketch  called  Dead  this  Twenty 
Years.  It  is  merely  the  account  of  a  child  who  died 
by  accident  twenty  years  before,  and  the  mother's 
thoughts  about  it  all,  and  her  grief.  And  this  is 
what  she  says,  "  Thou  God  seest  me,"  she  exclaims. 
"  Just  when  I  came  to  '  Thou  God  seest  me,'  I  let  the 
book  lie  in  my  lap,  for  aince  a  body's  sure  o'  that 
they're  sure  o'  all:  for  I  ken  He  was  lookin'  down 
when  the  cart  gaed  ower  Joey,  and  He  wanted  to 
tak'  my  laddie  to  Himsel."  And  there  is  no  other 
word  said,  or  that  can  be  said.  To  be  sure  that  God 
reigns  is  to  be  sure  of  every  thing,  and  when  God 
giveth  quietness,  who  then  shall  make  trouble? 

And  so  then  we  see  that  the  one  thought  in  which 
man  can  find  comfort  and  repose  in  the  day  of  sorrow, 
in  the  hour  of  unforeseen  calamity,  in  the  total  wreck 
of  human  happiness,  is  this  thought  of  the  sov- 
ereignty of  God.  No  doubt  it  is  a  thought  that  has 
been  much  misunderstood,  abused,  and  misapplied: 
but  the  wisest  and  greatest  of  men  have  known  how 
to  use  it  and  to  stay  their  souls  upon  it.  It  is  mis- 
understood when  a  man  says  of  calamities  which  seem 
inexplicable,  "  They  are  good  because  they  are  the  will 
of  God."  This  is  after  all  but  another  form  of 
stoicism,  and  is  not  far  removed  from  the  sullen  sub- 
mission of  the  old  pagan  philosophers  to  a  hierarchy 
of  deities,  whose  government  was  caprice,  whose  will 
was  tyranny,  and  whose  ways  were  inscrutable.  But 
it  is  rightly  apprehended  when  a  man  says,  "  It  is 

63 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

God's  will  because  it  is  good:  because  in  some  way 
unknown  to  me  God  seeks  to  discipline  me,  and  be- 
cause God  is  incapable  of  willing  evil."  When  a  man 
learns  to  say  this  he  attains  to  the  Divine  quiet: 
peace  descends  upon  him  as  a  dew :  alone,  he  is  not 
alone ;  forsaken  he  is  not  forgotten ;  persecuted  he  is 
not  destroyed,  cast  down  he  is  not  in  despair;  for 
over  the  sea  of  life  by  him  uncharted,  and  along 
the  ways  of  the  sea  to  him  unknown,  there  falls  the 
voice  of  the  Heavenly  Steersman,  who  cries  "  AIVs 
well"  You  and  I  have  to  face  a  life  which  is  full  of 
vicissitude.  We  know  well  enough  that  sorrows 
come  upon  us  unexpectedly,  and  when  we  march 
most  confidently  to  our  Promised  Land,  we  may  find 
that  our  most  tragic  battle  is  yet  to  be  fought.  We 
cannot  forget  such  things,  and  in  our  poor  dumb, 
human  way  we  often  wonder  how  we  shall  meet  such 
hours.  Be  sure  of  it  mere  human  fortitude  will  not 
serve  us  then.  Be  sure  of  it  stoicism  will  fail  us,  and 
no  philosophic  reconciliation  to  the  inevitable  will 
heal  the  wound  that  bleeds  within.  But  one  remedy 
for  the  troubled  soul  of  man  was  never  known  to  fail. 
Man  can  say,  "  God  reigns  —  let  God's  will  be  done." 
He  can  realise  that  he  is  in  the  grasp  of  a  mightier 
Power,  who  is  not  unloving,  and  that  he  is  fulfilling  a 
plan  long  predetermined.  At  every  step  of  the  way 
to  his  Calvary  or  his  ascension,  he  may  say  as  Jesus 
said,  "  The  Son  of  man  goeth,  as  it  is  written  of  him." 
Written  where?     In  the  inscrutable  counsels  of  God 

64 


THE     SOVEREIGNTY     OF     GOD 

to  whom  every  life  is  known  in  its  completeness 
before  its  first  breath  is  drawn.  You  cannot  read 
those  counsels :  "  When  God  hideth  His  face,  who 
then  shall  behold  Him?"  But  you  may  know  that 
He  reigns,  and  reigns  in  wisdom,  righteousness,  and 
love,  and  then  you  will  so  far  triumph  as  to  say, 
"  All  is  in  God's  hands,  my  trouble  and  my  joy  alike, 
and  when  He  giveth  quietness,  who  shall  make 
trouble?  " 

And  finally,  the  Book  of  Job  declares  the  mystery 
of  sorrow  as  solved  in  the  mystery  of  Heaven.  The 
Prologue  gives  us  the  key  to  the  whole  drama,  when 
it  shows  Job's  case  as  debated  in  heaven,  and 
thoroughly  understood  there:  the  last  act  of  the 
drama  is  the  Divine  intervention.  A  whirlwind  once 
more  blows,  but  not  now  to  destroy,  for  God  Himself 
rides  upon  its  wings,  and  a  Voice  out  of  the  whirl- 
wind cries,  "  Whatsoever  is  under  the  whole  heaven 
is  mine."  And  again  He  cries,  "  Who  is  this  that 
darkeneth  counsel  by  words  without  knowledge?" 

And  at  last  Job  replies,  "  I  lay  my  hand  upon  my 
mouth.  I  have  heard  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear :  but 
now  mine  eye  seeth  thee."  And  behold  the  whirl- 
wind passes  and  there  is  peace.  Peace  in  the  heavens 
that  are  as  a  sapphire  for  clearness,  peace  on  the 
earth  where  the  evening  breeze  begins  to  blow,  and 
peace  within  the  soul  of  Job.  The  dream  of  Heaven 
has  come  to  him,  with  its  promise  of  the  very  vision 
of   God,   its   perfect  knowledge,   its   solution   of   all 

65 


THE       DIVINE      CHALLENGE 

earthly  mystery ;  and  because  he  is  now  sure  of  the 
Beneficent  Sovereignty  of  God,  he  is  able  to  believe 
that  "  there  will  come  another  era,  when  it  shall  be 
light,  and  man  will  awake  from  his  lofty  dreams  to 
find  his  dream  still  there,  and  that  nothing  has  gone 
save  his  sleep."  O  most  dread  and  mighty  Sovereign 
of  the  Earth  and  the  Heavens,  Thou  who  art  the 
First  and  Last,  the  Beginning  and  the  End,  from 
whom  nothing  is  hid,  be  it  ours  to  serve  Thee  in 
humility,  faithfulness,  and  truth,  and  so  in  the  hour 
of  trouble  Thou  shalt  hide  us  in  Thy  pavilion,  and 
when  the  dream  of  life  is  past,  behold  we  shall  awake 
in  Thy  image,  and  be  satisfied. 


66 


FULFILMENT 


IV 

FULFILMENT 

"That  it  might  be  fulfilled."— Matt.  ii.  23. 

THREE  times  in  the  course  of  eight  verses  do 
we  come  upon  this  phrase:  it  chimes  upon  the 
ear  like  the  sound  of  a  persistent  bell.  These  eight 
verses  narrate  things  which  in  themselves  seem  tragic 
and  disastrous,  and  to  which  men  would  give  the  name 
of  accident :  but  the  Divine  Word  for  them  is  That  it 
might  be  fulfilled.  They  narrate  the  hurried  and 
perilous  flight  into  Egypt  —  the  slaughter  of  the  in- 
nocents, the  return  to  Nazareth  —  each  an  incident 
wholly  unforeseen,  and  surcharged  with  bitterness  or 
sadness.  Consider  the  pathetic  picture  of  these 
anxious  fugitives,  with  the  Child  of  miracle  upon 
their  bosoms,  driven  out  of  Judaea  by  a  great  fear, 
flying  for  their  lives  upon  an  unknown  path,  until 
at  last  they  see  with  tired  eyes  the  Nile,  the  land  of 
strange  pyramids  and  vast  temples,  built  ages  be- 
fore by  the  toiling  slaves  who  were  their  ancestors; 
and  does  not  that  read  like  a  tragic  accident?  Hear 
the  voice  of  weeping  and  lamentation  in  Rama  — 
must  it  not  have  seemed  to  many  a  mother  who  sat 

69 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

with  a  mangled  babe  upon  her  lap,  that  God  was 
far  away  and  forgetful  of  her  sorrows?  Consider 
the  fugitives  as  they  return,  driven  by  the  exigency 
of  bread  to  dwell  in  a  little  town  notorious  for  the 
godlessness  and  worthlessness  of  its  inhabitants  — 
and  can  Joseph  and  Mary  discern,  think  you,  any 
wise  or  beneficent  end  in  such  a  fate?  Yet  each  of 
these  incidents  was  a  link  in  a  chain  which  bound 
eternity  to  time ;  it  was  a  master-stroke  of  destiny ;  it 
was  the  result  of  predetermined  and  inevitable  pur- 
pose; it  all  happened  That  it  might  be  fulfilled. 
God  was  never  nearer  the  world  than  in  the  hour  when 
the  cry  of  the  bereaved  mothers  rose  in  Rama ;  never 
more  surely  at  work  in  the  shaping  of  human  events 
than  when  these  insignificant  fugitives  paused  beside 
the  Nile,  or  entered  footsore  and  disheartened  into 
Nazareth.  Even  the  craft  and  wickedness  of  Herod 
yielded  its  quota  to  the  establishment  of  prophecy, 
and  without  meaning  or  imagining  it,  Herod  was 
obeying  the  prophets,  and  acting  upon  the  compul- 
sion of  a  Divine  Providence.  Is  there,  indeed,  any- 
thing that  happens  in  the  world,  any  crime,  or  folly, 
or  error  of  man's,  that  can  be  truly  called  accidental, 
an  interruption  or  breaking  away  from  the  Divine 
order?  Is  not  the  very  wickedness  of  man  a  contri- 
bution to  the  triumph  of  goodness,  and  like  the 
wickedness  of  Herod,  something  that  happens  for 
the  fulfilment  of  a  larger  scheme  of  goodness? 
Now,  here  are  three  incidents  in  history:  one,  a 
70 


FULFILMENT 

piece  of  painful  human  vicissitude  —  the  second,  a 
piece  of  horrible  wickedness  —  the  third,  the  sad 
irony  of  trouble  which  poverty  is  compelled  to  know, 
and  each  is  set  before  us  in  no  way  accidental,  but 
so  far  the  reverse  of  accidental,  that  it  is  the  un- 
mistakable revelation  of  a  Divine  force  working  in 
the  world.  Perhaps  the  first  thing  we  need  to  do 
is  to  understand  our  terms.  Manifestly  what  is 
meant  is  not  that  Christ  was  carried  into  Egypt 
because  Hosea  predicted  it;  or  that  the  children 
are  slain  because  Jeremiah  spoke  of  lamentation  and 
great  weeping  in  Rama:  or  that  the  infant  grew 
up  in  Nazareth  because  the  prophets  spoke  of  a 
Divine  Deliverer  who  should  come  out  of  Nazareth. 
To  read  the  saying  in  this  spirit  would  be  to  accuse 
Mary  and  Joseph  of  deliberate  collusion,  with  an 
attempt  to  act  a  part,  which  is  manifestly  absurd; 
or  which  is  little  better,  to  suggest  that  things  were 
bound  to  fall  out  as  they  did,  simply  because  a 
Hebrew  prophet  had  obscurely  hinted  at  some  such 
event.  No:  the  truth  lies  in  the  reverse  direction; 
the  thing  happened  not  because  it  was  prophesied: 
but  it  was  prophesied  because  it  had  to  happen. 
For  what  is  prophecy?  It  is  two  things,  forth- 
telling  and  foretelling.  The  prophets  were  mainly 
forthtellers,  and  the  great  burden  of  their  work 
was  the  exposition  of  great  moral  and  spiritual 
truths.  But  ever  and  again,  in  some  condition  of 
spiritual  ecstasy,  they  saw  the  clouds  clear  from  the 

71 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

sky  of  the  future,  and  caught  momentary  glimpses  of 
the  far-off  dawn  of  a  new  time.  They  saw  as  men 
see  in  dreams,  places,  cities  and  countries,  strangely 
vivid  and  real,  and  yet  built  of  luminous  mist  and 
shadows  only;  they  felt  the  incommunicable  thrill 
of  great  events,  linking  themselves  to  such  places, 
and  heard  the  movements  of  the  men  and  women 
who  should  inhabit  them  —  and  then  they  became 
foretellers.  They  had  only  a  limited  comprehension 
of  their  own  words.  They  were  unable  to  attach 
any  quite  definite  meaning  to  them.  They  spoke 
as  men  speak  in  dreams,  with  vagueness  and  yet 
with  a  thrilling  accent  of  truth.  Those  who  heard 
them  speak  treasured  their  words,  for  they  instinc- 
tively felt  that  there  was  a  mystic  meaning  in  them 
which  some  day  would  be  made  clear.  Hosea  had 
no  actual  vision  of  Christ  in  Egypt,  Jeremiah  no 
vivid  and  exact  prevision  of  what  it  was  that  would 
make  Kama  a  place  of  mourning;  but  each  spoke 
in  such  a  way,  that  when  centuries  afterwards  cer- 
tain things  happened,  men  said,  and  said  truly  — 
"  Behold  the  prophets  said  these  things."  Neither 
they,  nor  any  since  them,  have  understood  what 
they  really  meant:  but  we  know.  To-day  is  this 
Scripture  fulfilled ;  but  it  is  fulfilled,  not  in  arbitrary 
obedience  to  the  word  of  a  prophet,  but  the  prophet 
spoke  in  obedience  to  a  Divine  instinct,  he  and  we 
being  both  alike  witnesses  to  the  Divine  order  which 
rules   the   world.     It   is   thus    and   thus   alone   that 

72 


FULFILMENT 

prophecy  can  become  rational,  intelligible,  and  a  real 
communication  of  God  made  through  the  souls  and 
minds  of  men. 

But  some  one  will  very  naturally  say,  "  It  is  not  so 
much  with  the  nature  of  prophecy  that  we  are  con- 
cerned, as  with  the  moral,  personal,  and  theological 
questions  involved  in  these  statements.  Take  the 
personal  question  for  example.  Here  is  an  obscure 
Jewish  family  driven  into  exile  by  the  tyranny  of 
Herod  many  centuries  ago.  Probably  such  a  thing 
often  happened  in  the  days  of  Herod,  who  appears 
to  have  been  one  of  the  worst  of  rulers.  But  are  we 
to  believe  that  the  actions  of  these  men  and  women 
were  of  such  consequence  to  the  Supreme  power, 
that  it  was  well-known  centuries  before  what  they 
would  do,  and  that  what  they  did  was  done  under 
the  direct  though  unrecognised  compulsion  of  the 
Almighty  ?  "  And  to  that  question  I  reply,  why  not  ? 
Are  we  conscious  of  no  compulsions  of  Providence? 
Are  we  not  warned  by  our  instincts  in  our  dealings 
with  one  another,  in  our  choice  of  the  path  we  tread, 
in  the  sum  of  those  small  and  large  decisions  which 
make  up  our  destiny?  Has  no  voice  ever  said  to 
us,  "  this  is  the  way  —  walk  ye  in  it " ;  and  has  no 
voice  told  us  that  some  other  way  our  pride  or 
ignorance  would  have  chosen,  was  the  way  of  peril 
or  of  death?  And  if  we  pass  from  the  study  of  our 
own  life  to  the  lives  of  those  who  have  bulked  large 
before  the  world,  who  have  done  great  things  among 

73 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

their  fellow  men,  and  whose  every  stage  of  develop- 
ment and  action  is  a  matter  of  public  scrutiny  and 
general  interest  —  is  there  any  biography  that  does 
not  teach  the  doctrine  of  divine  compulsion  as 
one  of  the  best  verified  facts  of  life?  Socrates  may 
call  it  the  voice  of  his  daemon,  Knox  may  call  it  the 
voice  of  God,  by  Abraham  Lincoln  it  is  heard  in 
dreams,  by  Luther  in  the  whispers  of  the  air;  but  is 
there  any  man  who  has  ever  attained  to  greatness 
as  thinker  or  actor,  who  has  not  confessed  that  he 
has  been  the  creature  of  mysterious  compulsions, 
with  a  consciousness  of  moving  in  predetermined 
ways?  And  are  not  such  confessions  of  a  piece  Avith 
the  similar  confessions  of  writers  of  the  greatest 
genius,  such  as  Milton  and  George  Eliot,  who  have 
plainly  stated  that  their  very  genius  seemed  not  so 
much  a  thing  of  themselves,  as  the  impartation  to 
the  mind  of  a  message  from  the  outside,  by  a  species 
of  Divine  compulsion  on  the  thought?  That  it  might 
be  fulfilled  —  the  saying  touches  all  lives.  It  is  the 
confession  alike  of  our  glory  and  our  impotence,  and 
we  have  only  to  look  within  ourselves  to  find  ample 
vindication  of  its  truth. 

But  again  it  will  be  said,  "  That  is  not  all ;  what 
about  the  moral  question  which  is  involved?  One 
of  the  events  in  this  chapter  is  a  wanton  and 
bloody  massacre.  It  is,  as  you  have  said,  a  piece  of 
horrible  wickedness.  It  would  no  doubt  be  too  ab- 
surd  to  suppose   that   it   happened   merely   to   give 

74 


FULFILMENT 

coherence  and  sense  to  a  saying  of  Jeremiah;  but  is 
it  possible  to  suppose  that  it  happened  at  all  by  the 
permission  of  God?  Does  God  recognise  evil  as  a 
weapon  for  the  carrying  out  of  His  designs,  and  can 
evil  be  recognised  as  a  servant  in  the  triumph  of 
goodness?"  And  again  I  say,  why  not?  For  which 
is  better,  to  think  of  evil  as  outside  God's  control 
or  within  it?  Which  is  the  more  pious  act  of 
thought,  to  regard  wickedness  as  something  God 
cannot  restrain,  or  as  something  perpetually  defeated 
in  its  ultimate  aims  by  the  compulsion  God  puts  upon 
it?  And  here  again,  does  not  the  actual  spectacle 
of  life  and  history  teach  us  something?  This  mas- 
sacre in  Rama  was  small  and  unnoticeable  compared 
with  the  immolation  of  the  Piedmontese,  the  slaughter 
of  the  Vaudois,  and  the  barbarities  of  the  Spaniards 
in  the  Netherlands,  to  say  nothing  of  the  martyr- 
doms of  the  early  Christians.  There  have  been 
times  in  human  history,  not  so  far  away,  when  not 
a  village  or  a  district,  but  whole  provinces  and  em- 
pires have  wailed  for  their  dead,  and  every  house  has 
been  a  house  of  mourning.  There  have  been  such 
wrongs  wrought  in  outrage  and  spoliation  that  cen- 
turies have  not  been  sufficient  to  wash  out  the  stain 
of  blood,  or  roll  back  the  shadow  that  has  fallen 
on  a  land.  And  in  relation  to  such  periods  one  of 
two  statements  is  true:  either  God  had  abdicated 
the  government  of  the  world  in  these  lurid  reigns 
of  blood,  or  God  permitted  them  for  a  higher  pur- 

75 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

pose;  and  the  one  statement  ends  in  atheism  as  the 
other  leads  to  faith  and  piety.  But,  as  a  matter 
of  fact  no  competent  historian  has  ever  made  the 
first  statement.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the 
surest  possible  weapon  for  the  propagation  of  a 
religion  is  martyrdom.  Such  faith  in  Christ  as 
Europe  possesses  to-day,  such  liberty  of  thought  and 
reverence  for  truth,  is  the  direct  fruit  of  the  days 
when  the  price  of  liberty  was  torture,  and  the  crown 
of  truth  was  death.  For  the  final  verdict  on  all  such 
events  —  a  verdict  which  cannot  be  delivered  until 
ages  have  passed  and  historical  perspectives  have 
grown  clear  —  is  that  in  the  long  run  truth  only  lives, 
and  the  wickedness  of  the  wicked  is  compelled  into 
the  service  of  goodness  and  of  truth.  Herod  does 
his  work,  but  even  he,  in  the  very  doing  of  his  work, 
is  fulfilling  prophecy.  The  wailing  in  Rama  is  but 
the  discordant  tuning  of  the  instruments  in  that 
divine  orchestra  which  is  presently  to  fill  the  world 
with  an  enduring  music  of  love  and  hope.  Wait  till 
the  discord  dies  away  —  then  you  will  find  its  fulfil- 
ment in  the  larger  music  of  eternity,  which  shall  roll 
across  the  world,  rousing  it  from  its  sleep,  and  cre- 
ating a  new  soul  under  the  very  ribs  of  death. 

But  again  it  will  be  said  — "  What  about  ftie  theo- 
logical question  ?  "  In  what  does  this  differ  from 
the  doctrines  of  necessity  and  fatalism?  Does  it  not 
lead  directly  to  that  saddest  confession  of  the  saddest 
poet  of  our  time  — 

76 


FULFILMENT 

If  one  is  born  a  certain  day  on  earth, 
All  times  and  seasons  tended  to  that  birth, 
Not  all  the  world  could  change  or  hinder  it: 
I  find  no  hint  throughout  the  universe, 
Of  good  or  ill,  of  blessing  or  of  curse, 
I  find  alone  necessity  supreme. 

In  other  and  quite  plain  words,  could  Herod  help 
what  he  did?  And  can  the  bad  man  who,  by  mar- 
tyring the  innocent,  unconsciously  but  really  works 
out  the  ultimate  victory  of  the  good  —  can  he  help 
playing  the  part  he  plays?  Assuredly  he  can,  for 
men  are  not  mere  puppets  and  blind  mechanisms  in 
the  hand  of  God.  A  man  who  enters  an  express 
train  is  not  responsible  for  its  motion,  but  he  is 
responsible  for  entering  it.  Once  within  it  he  must 
submit  to  its  compulsion,  and  it  is  possible  enough 
that  it  may  carry  him  to  some  unintended  bourne ; 
but  it  was  by  his  act,  and  his  alone  that  he  entered 
it.  No:  this  is  not  fatalism,  it  is  a  very  different 
thing;  it  is  the  statement  of  the  real  control  of  God 
over  the  world.  Men  act  for  one  end,  and  God 
guides  their  action  to  quite  another;  men  set  their 
course,  as  the  sailor  does,  and  duly  steer  by  it;  but 
in  every  ocean  there  are  tides  and  currents,  winds 
and  eddies  that  imperceptibly  draw  or  drift  the  ship 
out  of  the  exact  course  marked  upon  the  map  of 
man.  We  are  undoubtedly  free  agents,  and  yet 
there  is  a  law  of  gravitation  which  we  obey  every 
moment  of  our  lives  although  we  know  nothing  about 

77 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

it.  And  that  then  is  the  first  and  great  point  on 
which  we  fix  our  thoughts.  It  is  not  the  veracity  of 
the  prophets  that  is  being  proved,  it  is  the  real 
sovereignty  of  God.  It  is  not  the  correspondence 
between  a  sa}7ing  of  Jeremiah  and  the  wickedness 
of  Herod  that  is  of  interest,  it  is  the  fact  of  the 
real  control  of  God  over  all  human  events.  That 
which  stands  out  large  and  luminous  is  the  truth 
that  compulsions  of  Providence  touch  every  life ; 
that  we  have  relations  to  infinite  forces  of  which  we 
take  small  account;  that  our  acts,  which  seem  so 
intimately  our  own,  are  controlled  and  guided  by  a 
secret  hand  of  which  we  are  but  dimly  conscious ; 
that  God  reigns  over  good  and  evil  alike  —  unresting, 
unhasting,  immutable  —  thwarted  by  no  accident, 
deflected  from  His  sovereign  purposes  by  no  revolt 
of  man's  —  God  reigns  —  and  when  the  book  of  time 
is  closed  its  final  word  will  be  —  That  it  might  be 
fulfilled. 

But  now,  in  the  second  place,  let  the  mind  dwell 
upon  the  word  fulfilled,  for  in  it  is  contained  the 
mystery  of  hope  of  the  Advent.  What  is  fulfilment  ? 
The  fruit  is  the  fulfilment  of  the  bloom,  the  meridian 
day  is  the  fulfilment  of  the  dawn.  What  we  mean  by 
the  word  as  it  is  applied  to  Christ  is,  that  there  was 
something  foreshadowed,  and  in  Him  that  something 
was  revealed ;  that  on  the  lip  of  time  there  was  a 
whisper  and  a  suggestion,  of  which  Christ  was  the 
uttered   word ;   in   the   fulness   of  time   "  the   Word 

78 


FULFIL       MENT 

became  flesh  and  dwelt  among  us."  How  then,  and 
in  what  way  was  Christ  a  fulfilment  of  foreshadowed 
things  ? 

We  find  the  answer  in  two  directions:  the  first  of 
which  is  that  His  person  and  His  life  fulfilled  cer- 
tain conditions  long  predicted.  Let  the  minds  of 
all  who  have  the  most  casual  knowledge  of  Scrip- 
ture, range  for  a  moment  over  the  long  series  of 
predictions  which  by  common  consent  have  been  ap- 
plied to  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  They  cover  a  vast 
period  of  time,  and  were  uttered  by  a  great  variety 
of  speakers.  They  are  at  once  vague  and  definite. 
They  become  most  precise  in  the  mouth  of  Isaiah, 
who  speaks  of  the  lowly  birth,  the  healing  ministry, 
the  sorrowful  tragedy,  the  rejection,  betrayal,  and 
burial  of  One  who  is  to  bear  the  stripes  wherewith 
we  are  healed,  and  to  triumph  by  the  force  of  virtue, 
meekness  and  love.  Places  and  persons  are  named  — 
"  He  is  the  Root  of  David,"  and  His  birthplace  is 
Bethlehem.  He  is  to  prove  something  more  than  a 
local  patriot :  "  He  is  the  Desire  of  all  Nations." 
His  reign  is  to  be  widespread  and  everlasting :  "  He 
shall  have  the  heathen  for  His  heritage,  and  the  utter- 
most parts  of  the  earth  for  His  possession."  Through 
hundreds  of  years  of  Jewish  history,  this  sublime 
figure  was  adumbrated  to  the  Jewish  mind.  It  is  not 
pretended  that  either  before  or  after  Christ  any  other 
man  fulfilled  these  conditions;  and  the  proof  of  this 
statement  is  that  the  Jews  still  pray  for  the  coming  of 

79 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

Him  of  whom  Isaiah  spoke.  But  in  Jesus  of  Naza- 
reth all  these  minute  and  manifold  conditions  were 
accurately  fulfilled.  Men  did  recognise  in  Him  the 
long  promised  Messiah.  He  Himself,  in  the  calm 
survey  of  His  own  career  after  His  resurrection,  asked 
whether  the  predicted  Christ  ought  not  to  have 
suffered  the  things  He  suffered,  and  to  have  entered 
into  His  glory?  I  ask  for  nothing  more  than  a 
rational  and  unbiassed  consideration  of  these  facts. 
Did  these  predictions  mean  anything  or  nothing? 
If  they  were  true  foreshadowings,  who  else  is  there 
who  has  in  the  least  degree  fulfilled  these  condi- 
tions? Where  else  in  history  is  there  any  figure  in 
whom  all  these  predictions  converge  with  such  aston- 
ishing and  perfect  accuracy?  I  confess  that  for  me 
there  is  nothing  in  human  history  so  miraculous 
as  this  story,  and  the  proof  of  its  effect  upon  the 
human  mind  is  that  all  the  most  cultured,  enlightened, 
and  civilized  nations  of  the  world  have  accepted 
Christianity  and  found  in  Jesus  of  Nazareth  the  long 
predicted  and  Divine  Redeemer. 

It  was  one  of  the  beautiful  and  pathetic  beliefs  of 
the  old  Norsemen,  quoted  by  Mr.  Balfour  in  his 
Foundation  of  Belief,  that  when  a  man  died  his  spirit 
survived  him,  and  haunted  as  a  ghost  for  a  long  time 
the  scenes  of  his  earthly  life.  "  At  first,"  says  he, 
"  vivid  and  almost  lifelike,  it  slowly  waned  and  faded, 
until  at  length  it  vanished,  leaving  behind  it  no 
trace  or  memory  of  its  spectral  presence  among  the 

80 


FULFILMENT 

throngs  of  living  men."  Let  us  reverse  the  legend, 
and  then  apply  it  to  this  subject.  For  long  ages  the 
faint  adumbration  of  a  divine  deliverer  haunted  the 
minds  of  men.  At  first  dim  and  spectral,  the  vision 
grew  upon  the  minds  of  men,  becoming  with  each 
age  more  definite  and  perfect.  It  fortified  and  in- 
vigorated the  failing  heart  of  the  world  with  a  new 
hope.  Others  besides  Balaam  learned  to  say,  "  I 
shall  see  Him  but  not  now;  I  shall  behold  Him  but 
not  nigh.  There  shall  come  a  Star  out  of  Jacob,  and 
a  Sceptre  shall  rise  out  of  Israel."  Before  the  mind 
of  a  Plato  as  well  as  an  Isaiah,  this  slowly  growing 
vision  passes,  and  each  foresees  the  advent  of  some 
perfectly  just  One,  by  whom  the  world  should  be 
saved.  Out  of  the  films  and  spectral  profundities 
of  the  future  this  face  grew  into  clearness  —  this 
figure  emerged  into  distinctness  —  until  at  last  the 
spiritual  and  ghostly  put  on  a  human  form,  and 
God  became  flesh  and  dwelt  among  us.  The  dream 
was  ended  —  the  reality  had  come.  Hope  had  ful- 
filled itself  —  faith  was  to  begin.  The  vision  was  no 
more  a  vision ;  the  palpable  Redeemer  spoke  indeed 
"  with  man's  voice  by  the  marvellous  sea,"  and  stood 
before  men  with  a  human  brow  —  and  all  this  hap- 
pened —  That  it  might  be  fulfilled. 

But  the  element  of  fulfilment  is  still  more 
strikingly  seen  in  the  teaching  of  Christ.  No  one 
will  venture  to  deny  that  long  before  the  birth  of 
Christ  many  pious  and  noble  ideals  of  religion  pos- 

81 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

sessed  the  world,  and  not  among  the  Jews  alone. 
All  that  is  meant  by  chastity,  courage  and  fortitude, 
honour  and  duty  and  loyalty  to  truth,  the  subjuga- 
tion of  personal  aims  to  public  ideals,  and  a  corre- 
sponding reverence  for  and  service  of  the  state,  ex- 
isted among  the  earlier  Romans ;  and  when  we  would 
learn  and  enforce  these  lessons  to-day  we  can  still  find 
no  nobler  books  than  the  literature  with  which  Rome 
has  furnished  us.  Nor  can  we  forget  that  centuries 
before  Christ  a  great  religious  revival  had  occurred 
in  India,  the  main  ethics  of  which  were  the  mastery 
of  the  flesh,  the  complete  sacrifice  of  the  individual 
to  the  service  of  his  fellows,  and  a  noble  passion  to 
communicate  the  truths  wherein  spiritual  freedom 
were  found  to  all  who  would  listen,  irrespective  of 
condition,  state,  or  country.  The  very  watchword  of 
Rome  was  duty:  the  watchword  of  Buddha  was  still 
nobler  —  it  was  "  delivered  yourself,  deliver  others ; 
and  saved,  make  haste  to  save."  It  would  be  an  un- 
grateful blasphemy  against  the  Giver  of  all  good  and 
perfect  gifts  to  deny  or  forget  these  things.  But 
the  more  narrowly  you  examine  the  ancient  religions 
of  Rome  and  India,  the  more  obvious  is  their  lack  of 
a  true  central  element.  They  were  not  revelations  of 
God :  they  could  exist  without  God.  With  the  Roman, 
morality  was  wholly  divorced  from  piety  —  he  went 
to  the  philosopher  for  his  morals,  and  the  priest  for 
his  religion.  In  Buddhism  God  did  not  appear;  it 
was  a  religion  of  men  toward  men  —  the  sublimest 

82 


FULFILMENT 

effort  of  pure  altruism  ever  made  by  the  unaided 
genius  of  man.  But  the  greatest  of  all  questions  was 
overlooked  —  the  problem  of  God  received  no  solu- 
tion. Was  God  magnanimous  or  merciful?  Was  it 
possible  to  love  Him,  or  only  to  fear  Him  as  an  unex- 
plained terror?  That  question  was  never  answered 
perfectly  till  Christ  came.  But  He  answered  it,  and 
with  His  reply  the  world  has  been  content.  He  ful- 
filled all  of  truth  that  was  foreshadowed  in  the  re- 
ligions of  Rome  and  India.  He  supplied  the  omitted, 
the  neglected,  element.  He  revealed  the  Father.  At 
last  the  dumb  lips  of  Time  uttered  more  than  a 
suggestive  whisper  —  they  spoke  the  living  Word  — 
and  "  we  beheld  His  glory,  the  glory  as  of  the  only 
begotten  of  the  Father,  full  of  grace  and  truth." 
"  I  came,"  He  said,  "  not  to  destroy  but  to  fulfil  "  and 
with  Him  the  gray  dawn  of  truth  passed  into  that 
perfect  light  which  was  the  life  of  men  —  and  all 
this  happened  that  the  sovereign  will  of  God  might 
be  fulfilled. 

And  so  then  I  come  back  to  the  great  and  vital 
truth  of  the  real  sovereignty  of  God  over  the  world, 
with  which  we  started. 

Among  many  Oriental  legends  which  gather  round 
the  temple  of  Solomon  is  one  that  has  a  touch  of 
vivid  significance  —  it  is  that  Solomon  died  during 
the  building  of  the  Temple,  but  that  his  body  re- 
mained leaning  on  a  staff,  and  overlooking  the  work- 
men as  though  it  were  alive.     Picture  it,  this  gray 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

and  awful  figure,  forever  rigid  and  immutable,  there 
between  the  pinnacles  of  the  Temple,  with  the  first 
ray  of  morn,  and  there  with  the  last  star  at  night  — 
spectral,  terrible,  lonely  —  toward  which  the  trembling 
workmen  turned  fearful  glances  when  the  cloud  low- 
ered, or  the  light  failed  or  the  moon  silvered  all  the 
earth  with  ghostly  splendour!  Picture  the  dead  king, 
feared  by  the  living  workmen,  who  shrink  from  that 
dead  eye  which  death  himself  cannot  wholly  close ! 
It  is  a  ghastly  fancy,  but  not  more  ghastly  than  the 
thoughts  men  have  had  of  God.  For  multitudes  of 
men  around  us,  God  is  but  a  dead  Solomon ;  He  has 
neither  life,  nor  breath,  nor  motion.  He  is  awful 
enough  to  impose  some  restraint  upon  the  thought, 
but  is  as  impotent  as  the  dead  King  to  impose  restraint 
upon  the  conduct  of  men.  He  is  but  the  dead  figure- 
head of  a  forsaken  universe.  O  my  brethren,  it  is  to 
deliver  us  from  this  most  paralysing  of  all  thoughts, 
that  the  incarnation  took  place.  The  birth  of  Christ 
is  God's  proof  to  us  that  He  lives,  that  He  rules,  that 
He  loves  us.  Until  we  believe  with  all  our  hearts 
in  the  real  and  vital  sovereignty  of  God  over  this 
world  of  seeming  turmoil  and  disorder,  God  is  but 
a  name  to  us,  and  religion  but  a  habit  of  transmitted 
formalism.  Look  once  more  upon  the  whole  scene 
—  this  fitting  together  of  prediction  and  event  — ■ 
this  overruling  of  evil  for  the  work  of  infinite  good, 
and  learn  that  God  reigns,  and  all  these  things  hap- 
pened that  His  will  might  be  fulfilled. 

84 


FULFILMENT 

And  lastly,  this  truth  of  the  real  sovereignty  of 
God  I  know  not  how  to  grasp,  except  as  it  is  revealed 
to  me  in  Jesus  Christ.     I  can  grasp  the  idea  of  a 
religion  such  as  Rome  knew;  a  certain  Divinity  in 
the   State   which   demands    my    reverence,   and   con- 
strains  my   duty.     I   can   grasp  the   idea   of  a  hu- 
manly altruistic  religion  such  as  Buddha  taught,  and 
the   supreme   need  there   is   that   I   should  love   my 
fellow  man  better  than  myself  if  I  am  to  justify 
my   uses   of   existence.     But   I   know   not   where   to 
look  for  the   revelation   of  a   God  to   whom   I   can 
pray,  whom  I  can  adore  and  love,  except  in  Jesus 
Christ.     Some  supreme  Person  in  the  universe  I  may 
suspect,  but  he  may  be  dead  as  the  dead  king  upon 
the  roof  of  the  unfinished  temple  for   all  I  know. 
At  the  present  hour  perhaps  this  question  of  the  real 
sovereignty  of  God  may  seem  to  have  but  a  remote 
relation    to    your    life.     It    may    seem    at    best    an 
abstruse  and  academic  question.     But  the  hour  will 
surely   come  —  in   death   if   not   earlier  —  when   the 
supreme  agony  of  your  soul  will  sum  itself  up  in  the 
crv  —  does  God  live?     Does  God  care  anything  for 
me?     Am  I  anybody  to  God?     God's  reply  to  that 
deepest   cry   of  humanity   is   Bethlehem.     Immanuel 

God  with  us  —  is  the  message  of  hope  which  the 

Church  has  gone  on  proclaiming  for  centuries  — 
God  with  us  in  our  pain,  in  our  humiliations,  in 
our  lowest  deeps  of  suffering,  in  our  uttermost  lone- 
liness of  death  —  God  with  us  in  our  living  and  our 

S5 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

dying  —  and  we,  by  the  grace  of  Christ's  redemp- 
tion with  God  for  evermore,  in  the  unknown  fe- 
licity of  eternal  life.  To  know  this  is  to  know  all 
that  can  be  known  of  spiritual  truth,  to  live  by  it 
is  to  realise  all  that  can  be  realised  of  inward  peace, 
for  henceforth  we  can  say,  "  God  has  been  with 
us  in  the  cradle  and  the  grave  —  God  has  been  for  us 
in  our  extremity  and  distress  —  and  if  God  be  for  us, 
who  can  be  against  us?  " 


86 


TIMELESSNESS 


TIMELESSNESS 

"  One  day  is  with  the  Lord  as  a  thousand  years,  and  a  thou- 
sand years  as  one  day." —  2  Peter  iii.  8. 

THIS  passage  affirms  Timelessness  as  one  of  the 
attributes  of  God.  The  end  and  beginning 
are  as  one  with  Him.  Space  and  period  are  non- 
existent. You  can  discover  the  beginning  and  the 
end  of  a  line :  but  not  of  the  circle ;  for  the  circle 
ends  where  it  begins  and  begins  where  it  ends.  Per- 
haps this  was  the  animating  idea  of  Ezekiel  in  his 
strange  imagery  of  the  ever-revolving  wheel  full  of 
eyes ;  he  saw  in  the  circle  of  the  wheel  the  type  of 
the  unendingness  of  God. 

Now  to  creatures  finite  and  limited  as  we  are,  such 
thoughts  and  conceptions  put  an  almost  intolerable 
stress  upon  the  mind.  For,  at  first  sight,  it  would 
appear,  that  Time  is  the  ruling  principle  of  the  world. 
Seconds,  minutes,  days,  months,  years,  centuries, 
epochs  —  it  is  by  such  measurements  we  take  account 
of  things.  They  are  the  milestones  on  the  road  of 
our  existence.  Our  very  life  beats  itself  out  by  a 
pulse  that   registers   its  movements.     The  very   sun 

89 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

moves  in  the  harness  of  Time  and  obeys  a  punctual 
law.  What  then  are  we  to  make  of  that  great  open- 
ing clause  of  the  prayer  of  Moses,  the  man  of  God, 
"  Lord  Thou  hast  been  our  dwelling  place  in  all  gen- 
erations: from  everlasting  to  everlasting,  Thou  art 
God?  "  Or,  what  of  that  strange  paradox  of  the 
Psalmist  — "  In  Thy  book  all  my  members  were  writ- 
ten, which  in  continuance  were  fashioned,  when  as  yet 
there  were  none  of  them  ?  " 

Consider  what  these  things  imply :  that  we  were 
nourished  in  the  bosom  of  God's  Everlasting  before 
we  knew  the  limits  of  Time:  that  in  Him  we  were, 
when  as  yet  we  were  not:  that  our  substance  existed 
in  Him  before  it  existed  at  all  —  as  we  understand 
existence.  Well  may  we  feel  the  stress  put  upon 
our  thought  as  intolerable  —  but  is  not  the  one  clear 
thing  this,  that  for  us  also  Time  has  no  real  existence, 
and  a  thousand  years  are  as  one  day? 

In  such  sayings  human  thought  seems  to  overleap 
its  own  limits,  and  why?  Let  two  facts,  which  are 
common  to  man,  afford  us  the  explanation.  The  first 
fact  is,  that  to  us  the  idea  of  anything  without  limit  is 
terrible.  It  is  this  which  lends  an  aspect  of  awfulness 
to  the  sea  —  it  seems  an  unbounded  immensity.  We 
are  easy  in  our  minds  when  the  shore  is  in  sight,  or 
not  far  away :  but  who  has  not  been  oppressed  with  a 
sense  of  something  dreadful  and  lonely  when  he  has 
sailed  over  its  central  depths,  and  reflected  that  those 
depths  are  from  three  to  six  miles,  so  that  the  highest 

90 


TIMELESSNESS 

mountain  of  the  earth  if  dropped  into  the  ocean  would 
be  utterly  covered  and  forgotten  as  though  it  were  a 
pebble  thrown  by  the  hand  of  a  child  upon  the  shore? 
The  same  thing  affects  us,  but  with  increased  inten- 
sity, when  we  gaze  into  a  telescope,  and  see  not  only 
stars  but  tremendous  chasms  of  space  where  no  star 
shines,  unlighted  voids,  the  sites  as  it  were  of  worlds 
either  not  yet  created,  or  long  since  ruined  and  dis- 
persed like  such  cities  as  Nineveh  or  Babylon.  For 
the  sky  has  its  waste  places,  its  infinitudes,  and  they 
are  appalling.  Looking  into  the  depths  of  the  heav- 
ens "  there  is  a  size,"  it  has  been  said,  "  at  which  dig- 
nity begins:  further  on  there  is  a  size  at  which 
grandeur  begins:  further  on  there  is  a  size  at  which 
awfulness  begins:  further  on  a  size  at  which  ghast- 
liness  begins."  The  imaginative  powers  confronted 
with  such  a  spectacle  simply  bury  themselves  in  the 
depths  of  a  great  horror.  But  whence  this  sense  of 
horror?  It  is  the  horror  of  the  illimitable.  And  it 
is  even  so  we  feel  about  God,  when  once  we  have 
grasped  the  idea  of  the  illimitableness  of  God.  From 
everlasting  to  everlasting  Thou  art  God  —  it  fright- 
ens us.  With  God  a  thousand  years  as  one  day  — 
we  shrink  from  the  awfulness  of  the  thought  and 
say,  How  dreadful  is  this  place!  How  natural  is 
idolatry  in  the  light  of  such  a  thought!  How  much 
easier  to  make  an  image  of  that  which  is  unthinkable, 
and  worship  that  —  the  plain,  the  tangible,  the  lim- 
ited symbol  of  the  illimitable.     Was  it  not  because 

91 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

idolatry  is  the  natural  act  of  man  in  the  face  of  the 
illimitable  that  God  put  into  the  forefront  of  all 
His  commandments  to  man  this  —  Thou  shalt  not 
make  a  graven  image  nor  bow  down  to  it  —  I  am 
that  I  am  —  and  Me  the  eternal  Present  and  Near, 
only  shalt  thou  worship? 

Again,  when  once  we  have  put  a  limit  to  things  our 
minds  are  at  ease.  It  is  something  to  know  the  boun- 
daries, and  depths  of  the  ocean  —  at  all  events  it  is 
less  terrible  to  us  than  to  the  Argonauts,  and  the 
early  voyagers  and  discoverers,  who  were  the  first  to 
break  into  the  silent  sea.  The  horror  is  gone  when 
we  know  the  limit.  It  is  the  same  with  astronomy. 
We  may  take  its  enormous  figures  —  and  tell  ourselves 
that  the  light  moves  at  the  rate  of  twelve  million 
miles  a  minute :  that  the  sun  and  all  the  solar  system 
is  rushing  onward  to  a  certain  point  in  the  constella- 
tion of  Hercules  at  the  rate  of  thirty-three  million 
miles  a  year ;  and  that  it  will  reach  that  fixed  ter- 
minus in  a  little  less  than  two  million  years.  Such 
figures  are  almost  unthinkable  —  nevertheless  they  do 
not  alarm  us.  And  why?  Because  they  are  figures 
—  because  they  put  a  limit  on  things.  After  a  while 
it  becomes  as  easy  to  say  thirty-three  millions,  as  one, 
two,  three.  The  rest  is  merely  a  matter  of  multipli- 
cation, and  we  find  peace  of  mind  in  our  arithmetic. 
But  from  everlasting  to  everlasting  —  the  timeless, 
the  boundless,  the  illimitable  —  it  is  that  which  ap- 
pals and  frightens  us.     One  day  as  a  thousand  years 


TIMELESSNE 


—  it  seems  as  if  the  centre  of  gravity  in  all  our 
thought  were  lost  —  and  we  are  dumb  not  only  with 
perplexity,  but  with  a  nameless  awe. 

Here  then  is  the  first  practical  truth  on  which  we 
may  lean.     You  ask  of  God  a  task  nearly  unthinkable 

—  that  He  shall  number  the  hairs  on  the  head  of 
every  human  creature,  and  that  no  multitudinous 
sparrow  shall  fall  to  the  ground  without  His  knowl- 
edge. You  ask  really  far  more  than  that  even ;  that 
not  the  least  creature  in  all  His  worlds  shall  be  beyond 
His  cognisance  and  care.  For  who  can  doubt  that 
the  innumerous  stars  we  see  above  us  are  inhabited? 
It  would  be  a  strange  thing  indeed  if  among  all  these 
rushing  worlds  only  one,  and  that  the  least,  had 
inhabitants.  And  it  would  be  still  more  inconceiv- 
able that  if  they  are  inhabited,  God  cares  only  for  the 
people  of  the  earth,  and  neither  knows  nor  cares  for 
anything  beyond  this  one  troubled  star.  In  other 
words,  if  the  very  hairs  on  the  heads  of  men  are  num- 
bered, it  is  a  necessity  of  thought  that  no  less  can  be 
said  or  imagined  of  the  peoples  of  a  million  stars,  the 
distant  light  alone  of  which  is  known  to  us.  How 
can  such  a  task  be  accomplished?  Only  by  One  who 
is  timeless,  boundless,  illimitable.  He  might  do  it  — 
no  other.  For  if  there  be  a  limit  anywhere  with  God 
the  whole  thought  breaks  down  —  I  may  be  outside 
that  limit  as  truly  as  the  humblest  creature  of  the 
furthest  star,  and  for  all  I  know  I  am  without  it.  If 
God  can  overlook  a  world  how  much  easier  to  overlook 

93 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

me !  So  then,  the  one  foothold  and  certainty  of  faith 
is  in  this  illimitability  of  God,  and  we  express  not 
only  our  own  faith,  but  the  faith  of  all  the  worlds, 
when  we  say,  "  From  everlasting  to  everlasting  — 
Thou  art  God ! "  This  is  indeed  the  creed  of  the 
universe,  rehearsing  which  the  sons  of  God  shout  for 
joy,  and  the  morning  stars  sing  together. 

But  let  us  turn  to  another  phase  of  the  thought. 
We  have  admitted  that  all  our  thoughts  and  concep- 
tions are  governed  by  the  sense  of  Time:  yet  do  we 
not  find  that  Timelessness  also  enters  into  our  own 
life?  There  are  occasions  in  all  human  life,  when 
that  strong  apocalyptic  angel  who  stands  upon  the 
sea  and  upon  the  earth  —  upon  the  intangible  and  the 
tangible,  the  fluid  and  the  fixed  —  lifts  his  hand  to 
heaven,  and  swears  by  Him  that  liveth  for  ever  and 
ever,  that  Time  shall  be  no  more.  What  occasions  are 
these?  Have  we  ever  known  them?  Let  us  name 
and  examine  two  only. 

First,  imagination  is  Timeless.  In  the  flash  of  an 
instant,  and  the  least  conceivable  fraction  of  an  in- 
stant, I  am  with  Adam  in  Eden,  I  see  the  waters  of 
the  flood,  I  experience  all  of  the  thrill  and  passion  of 

Old,  unhappy,  far-off  things, 
And  battles  long  ago. 

Light  may  travel  swiftly;  but  I  can  outspeed  the 
light.  I  may  talk  of  centuries  —  but  they  are  mere 
forms  and  conveniences  of  speech  —  they  mean  noth- 

94 


TIMELESSNESS 

ing.  The  scholar  lives  not  in  the  university  of  Ox- 
ford—  he  lives  with  Homer  in  old  Greece:  the  his- 
torian of  the  Roman  Empire  lives  not  at  Lausanne 
but  under  the  shadow  of  the  Coliseum.  Men  saw 
Gibbon  writing  in  that  old  garden  at  Lausanne  but 
it  was  only  his  corporeal  frame  they  saw  —  his  mind 
was  far  away.  For  the  historian,  life  has  no  tenses 
—  the  imagination  has  destroyed  them.  Here,  at 
least,  it  becomes  literally  true  for  all  of  us  that  a 
thousand  years  are  as  one  day  —  and  that  while  Time 
may  regulate  our  clocks,  it  cannot  put  the  least 
hindrance  on  our  spirits,  or  on  the  life  of  our  minds. 
In  the  same  way  it  is  true  that  emotion  is  Timeless. 
"  It  seems  but  yesterday,"  says  the  old  man  as  he  talks 
of  his  early  life :  and  it  is  but  yesterday,  for  Time  is 
to  him  in  such  a  solemn  moment  of  reminiscence,  as 
though  it  were  not.  "  The  pain  is  as  keen  to-day  as 
it  ever  was,"  says  the  mourner:  undoubtedly,  for 
Time  has  no  jurisdiction  over  sorrow.  It  is  many 
years  since  the  mother  or  the  child  died:  but  have 
years  done  anything  to  make  the  loss  less  real?  Do 
we  not  still  wake  in  the  night  and  see  it  all,  feel  it  all 
again:  the  pang  of  heart  with  which  we  read  the 
tragic  telegram,  the  hasty  journey,  the  agony  of  im- 
patience, the  trembling  hand  upon  the  door,  the 
whispered  word,  the  pale  face  upon  the  pillow,  the 
dim  light,  the  eyes  that  met  ours  in  an  ineffable 
yearning  —  the  very  smell  of  sickness,  and  the  merest 
trifles  of  the  room,  such  as  the  watch  ticking  beside 

95 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

the  bed,  and  the  text  of  Scripture  on  the  wall?  What 
has  Time  to  do  with  such  poignant  experiences  as 
these?  Absolutely  nothing.  We  have  passed  into 
the  limitless.  If  we  live  beyond  the  earth,  we  think 
these  things  will  still  live  in  us.  And  of  this  we  are 
sure,  that  for  those  who  have  passed  beyond  the  earth 
love  still  lives,  and  Time  and  Space  are  powerless  to 
destroy  it.  Does  not  every  true  lover,  for  whom  love 
is  of  the  soul,  feel  and  acquiesce  in  the  solemn  pathos 
and  faith  of  the  dying  Pompilia's  speech  in  Brown- 
ing's, "Ring  and  the  Book  ": 

In  heaven  we  have  the  real  and  true,  and  sure, 

'Tis  there  they  neither  marry  nor  are  given 

In  marriage  but  are  as  the  angels:  right, 

O  how  right  that  is,  how  like  Jesus  Christ 

To  say  that !     .     .     . 

Be  as  the  angels  rather,  who,  apart, 

Know  themselves  into  one,  are  found  at  length 

Married,  but  marry  never,  no,  nor  give 

In  marriage. 

So,  let  him  wait,  God's  instant  men  call  years. 

"  God's  instant  men  call  years  " —  that  which  was,  and 
is  and  will  be  —  and  is  not  that  also  saying  that  with 
God  a  thousand  years  are  as  one  day ;  and  with  us  too, 
when  we  feel  ourselves  to  be  not  perishable  bodies, 
but  imperishable  and  immortal  spirits?  Time  does 
not  breathe  indeed  on  the  fadeless  bloom  of  this  world 
of  the  emotions  —  and  it  is  the  angel  of  love,  of  death- 

96 


TIMELESSNESS 

less  tenderness  and  passion  who  swears  by  Him  who 
liveth  for  ever,  that  Time  shall  be  no  more. 

What  is  it  then  that  we  ascertain  by  the  contempla- 
tion of  such  a  fact  as  this  ?  It  is  that  Time  regulates 
our  outer  life  but  it  has  no  power  over  our  mind.  It 
is  that  whether  we  recognise  it  or  not  there  is  an 
immortal  part  in  us,  even  as  the  wise  writer  of  Ec- 
clesiastes  said,  "  also  God  hath  set  eternity  in  the 
heart  of  man."  It  is  that  beyond  all  other  things  we 
see  that  love  knows  nothing  of  Time  —  for  the  love 
we  had  for  the  dead  mother  or  the  child  we  still  have 
—  not  a  pang  is  lost,  not  a  kiss  forgotten :  years  have 
altered  nothing,  for  "  love  is  not  love  that  alteration 
knows."  Now  see  then  how  things  fit  in  with  this 
truth.  What  is  God?  God  is  love,  is  the  sublime 
reply.  What  is  love?  Love  is  an  emotion  without 
limit ;  it  knows  neither  past  nor  future ;  it  is  an  eter- 
nal Now. 

Do  we  complain  of  our  insignificance,  our  distance 
from  God,  and  the  impossibility  of  God  knowing  any- 
thing of  us  ?  Time,  distance,  space,  nearness,  f  arness, 
have  no  existence  with  God.  They  have  no  existence 
with  love.  The  whole  breadth  of  the  world  may  yawn 
between  us  and  the  one  human  creature  we  love  best : 
but  it  has  no  effect  on  our  love.  Infinite  vastness 
may  intrude  itself  between  us  and  God:  it  has  no 
effect  upon  His  love.  In  that  eternal  Now  of  the 
divine  love  all  men  are  included :  nay  all  creatures  are 
included  too:  for  the  saying  of  Christ  is  not  only 

97 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

that  the  very  hairs  of  our  head  are  all  numbered,  but 
that  not  a  sparrow  falls  to  the  ground  —  its  tiny 
song  stilled,  its  infinitesimal  spark  of  life  extinguished 
—  without  the  Father. 

There  are  many  expressions  in  the  Bible  which 
seem  to  us  entirely  inscrutable.  Thus,  when  Jesus 
pronounces  the  blessing  of  the  faithful  servants,  He 
says,  "  Inherit  the  Kingdom  prepared  for  you  from 
the  foundation  of  the  world"  In  His  great  sacra- 
mental prayer  our  Lord  prays  that  His  disciples  may 
know  the  love  wherewith  God  loved  Him  before  the 
foundation  of  the  world,  St.  Paul  speaks  of  those 
who  were  chosen  in  God  before  the  foundation  of  the 
world;  and  St.  John  speaks  of  the  Lamb  who  was 
slain  from  the  foundation  of  the  world.  What  can 
these  words  mean?  Is  not  this  an  even  more  perplex- 
ing paradox  than  the  Psalmist's  when  he  speaks  of  his 
members  being  fashioned  when  as  yet  there  were  none 
of  them?  How  can  men  be  loved  before  they  exist, 
and  Christ  be  slain  before  He  is  born?  The  answer 
once  more  is  that  God  is  the  I  Am  —  the  eternal  pres- 
ent tense  —  the  Alpha  and  Omega,  the  beginning 
and  the  end.  There  is  no  to  be  with  God  —  all  is. 
Past  and  present  run  together,  and  are  annihilated 
in  Him.  The  Cross  was  from  eternity,  the  love  from 
eternity,  and  the  Lamb  is  not  slain  at  some  period  of 
Time  that  we  can  name,  but  from  the  foundation  of 
the  world.  In  the  eternal  day  of  the  Most  High 
there  is  neither  dawn  nor  night  —  it  is  one  sacred 

98 


TIMELESSNESS 

high  eternal  noon,  and  a  thousand  years  are  but  as 
one  day. 

But  this  is  not  all.  Think  yet  again:  do  we  not 
discover  in  such  expressions  the  hint  of  some  real 
correspondence  of  nature  between  man  and  God? 
To  be  known,  chosen,  and  loved  before  the  foundation 
of  the  world  must  mean,  if  it  mean  anything,  that 
there  is  something  in  us  that  existed  before  the  foun- 
dation of  the  world,  and  will  out-last  it.  For  the 
Psalmist  speaks  only  of  his  physical  frame,  his  mem- 
bers as  written  in  the  book  of  God  before  they  were 
fashioned:  what  was  it  God  loved  in  him  then  in  the 
day  when  he  was  not  so  far  as  his  earthly  part  was 
concerned?  Manifestly  the  soul.  And  there  at  last 
we  reach  the  clue  which  threads  the  mystery :  we  were 
all  souls  before  we  were  bodies,  and  we  shall  still  be 
souls,  when  our  bodies  have  returned  to  dust.  And 
for  the  soul  Time  does  not  exist,  nor  space,  nor  near- 
ness, nor  f arness :  and  the  love  of  God  to  man  is  the 
immortal  embracing  the  immortal,  that  which  always 
was,  communing  with  that  which  always  was  and  is: 
the  Timeless  locked  in  eternal  fellowship  with  the 
Timeless.  "  Thou  art  from  everlasting  to  everlast- 
ing —  we  shall  not  die  " —  cried  the  Hebrew  prophet : 
no,  because  we  also  live  and  move  in  the  everlasting 
Now  of  the  Highest.  O,  man,  living  for  nothing 
beyond  the  day,  seeing  all  things  as  bounded  by  the 
mean  horizon  of  Time,  hear  this:  thou  wert  before 
the  foundation  of  the  world,  and  thou  wilt  be  when 

99 


THE      DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

the  world  has  passed  away !  There  is  no  such  thing 
as  the  horizon  —  we  know  well  enough  that  it  is  a 
mere  optical  delusion.  That  blue  rim  and  edge  of 
the  world  you  think  you  see  is  no  rim  —  it  is  the 
abyss.  Travel  toward  it  —  you  cannot  reach  it ;  try 
to  touch  it  —  it  is  not.  A  mirage,  an  hallucination 
only  —  that  is  all  it  is :  and  Time  itself  is  even  such 
an  hallucination.  Our  life  knows  abysses  but  no 
horizons :  our  troubled  years  are  but  a  moment  in  the 
everlasting  Being:  and  for  us  also  a  thousand  years 
are  as  one  day. 

I  admit  that  language  toils  in  vain  to  express  these 
things:  that  they  are  philosophical  truths  which  al- 
most exceed  comprehension:  and  if  they  were  only 
philosophical  truths  I  would  not  occupy  my  time  or 
yours  in  the  effort  to  expound  them.  Even  now  some 
of  you  may  be  saying,  Why  not  preach  something 
quite  plain  and  practical,  which  has  a  clear  and 
cogent  bearing  on  the  daily  life  of  a  tired  business 
man?  But  these  are  not  merely  philosophical  truths 
—  pray  can  you  tell  me  of  any  truth  that  has  so 
searching,  cogent,  and  practical  a  bearing  on  the 
daily  life  of  the  tired  man  of  business  as  this  truth 
which  assures  him  that  he  has  a  soul?  For  that  is 
just  what  such  a  man  is  most  apt  to  forget.  Time 
governs  all  his  thoughts  —  Time  is  money  —  Time 
seems  a  very  real  horizon  imprisoning  his  energies, 
and  he  is  apt  to  become  the  merest  slave  and  drudge 
of  Time.     Who  then  needs  so  much  to  be  told  that 

100 


TIMELESSNESS 

the  horizon  is  not  real,  that  for  the  soul  there  is 
no  such  thing  as  Time,  and  that  he  has  a  soul 
fashioned  after  the  image  of  God,  and  loved  by  God 
before  the  foundation  of  the  world?  Does  it  not 
alter  all  things  to  believe  that?  Can  a  man  who  be- 
lieves it  drudge  his  life  out  to  make  money,  without 
a  single  higher  purpose:  can  he  be  prayerless,  unde- 
vout,  unthinking,  grudging  to  God  one  poor  hour  of 
worship  in  a  week  and  attending  public  worship  more 
from  habit  than  from  instinct?  And  besides,  have 
we  not  already  seen  that  this  tremendous  thought  of 
man's  personal  relation  to  God  is  the  most  powerful 
of  all  thoughts  in  shaping  character :  that  it  has  con- 
vulsed and  regenerated  nations  :  that  it  has  imposed  on 
man  a  sense  of  responsibility  which  has  had  more  to 
do  with  the  shaping  of  civilisation  than  anything 
else :  that  it  has  produced  literatures,  launched  armies, 
given  stability  to  human  government,  and  again  and 
again,  bred  the  hero  of  liberty  and  martyr  of  truth? 
We  cannot  ignore  such  facts.  Tell  a  man  Time  is 
all  he  has,  and  dust  all  he  is :  and  he  will  behave  as  the 
beasts  that  perish,  and  even  worse  than  they.  Tell 
him  that  he  is  the  true  child  of  the  Eternal,  and  all 
life  is  altered  to  him.  The  horizon  of  Time  has 
vanished,  the  heaven  is  opened  to  him,  and  all  his  life 
will  be  lived  as  in  the  sight  of  Him,  whose  he  is,  and 
whom  he  serves. 

"  And,  Lo,  I  am  with  you  always  even  to  the  end 
of  the  world,"  says  Christ  in  His  sublime  farewell 

101 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

to  His  disciples.  Once  more  see  how  all  things  fit  in 
with  these  truths.  For  Christ  thus  proclaims  Hwi^ 
self  from  everlasting  to  everlasting.  In  this  world 
to  which  He  came  for  a  season,  He  also  moved  within 
the  horizon  of  Time  —  and  He  spake  of  His  hour  — 
"  My  hour  is  not  jet  come  " :  once  beyond  it  He  had 
reached  the  realm  of  the  Timeless  —  no  hours  —  no 
periods  —  it  is  /  Am  —  and  it  is  always.  I  have  al- 
ready said  that  there  are  states  of  feeling  which  we 
all  know,  and  which  are  outside  the  jurisdiction  of 
Time.  Jesus  Himself  has  provided  us  with  one  sacred 
form  of  service,  the  very  essence  and  meaning  of 
which  is  that  it  takes  us  quite  outside  the  limits  of 
Time.  At  the  table  of  the  Lord  we  pass  into  Time- 
lessness  by  the  force  of  faith  and  love.  Our  emotion 
annihilates  the  years  and  centuries,  and  we  go  back 
in  the  flash  of  an  instant  to  that  guest-chamber  where 
the  Redeemer  sits,  and  says :  "  Do  this  in  remem- 
brance of  Me."  Our  faith  does  more:  we  feel  the 
living  embrace,  we  hear  the  living  voice  of  Him  who 
is  alive  for  evermore,  and  we  know  Him  with  us  in 
the  breaking  of  bread.  He  who  was  slain  before  the 
foundation  of  the  world  loves  us  who  existed,  in  the 
purpose  of  God,  before  the  foundation  of  the  world. 
Not  only  the  horizon  of  Time,  but  the  horizon  of 
sense  also  has  melted  away  —  and  there  is  a  Real 
Presence  indeed,  and  "  Spirit  with  spirit  can  meet, 
Closer  is  He  than  breathing,  and  nearer  than  hands 
and  feet."     Child  of  Time  and  earth,  draw  near,  and 

102 


TIMELESSNESS 

know  thyself  for  what  thou  art  —  the  child  of  God, 
loved  from  the  foundation  of  the  world  with  an  ever- 
lasting love.  Know  thy  Saviour  for  what  He  is  — 
slain  for  thee,  and  with  thee  in  the  undying  life  of 
the  Spirit,  always,  to  the  end  of  the  world.  Know 
the  Spirit  of  God  the  Comforter  as  thine :  the  breath 
of  the  Eternal  perpetually  breathed  into  thy  spirit, 
and  renewing  it.  And,  knowing  all  this,  join  in  the 
great  Antiphon  of  faith  and  praise  —  love  and  adora- 
tion: 

Glory  be  to  the  Father,  and  to  the  Son,  and  to  the 
Holy  Ghost.  As  it  was  in  the  beginning,  is  now  and 
ever  shall  be,  world  without  end.     Amen. 


103 


GOD'S  POEMS 


VI 
GOD'S  POEMS 

"For  we  are  his  workmanship,  created  in  Christ  Jesus  unto 
good  works,  which  God  hath  before  ordained  that  we  should 
walk  in  them."— Eph.  ii.  10. 

THE  contention  of  Paul  in  this  passage  is  that 
men  and  women  are  not  the  sole  architects  of 
their  own  characters  —  the  Supreme  Architect  who 
works  upon  them  is  God.  We  are  saved  by  grace 
—  by  a  long  series  of  Divine  interpositions,  by 
Heavenly  compulsions  and  impulsions,  by  the  energies 
of  a  ceaseless  Hand  that  works  upon  us  and  brings 
out  the  Heavenly  design,  and  completes  the  Divine 
symmetry.  Is  there  any  one  of  us  who  has  not  made 
that  discovery?  Are  there  not  moments  when  the 
most  self-reliant  of  us  is  made  to  feel  that  he  is  in 
the  hand  of  God,  that  all  our  purposes  in  life  and 
really  noble  efforts  after  completeness  of  character 
are  touched  with  a  humbling  inefficiency  —  that,  in 
fact,  anything  of  goodness  in  us  is  not  a  rare  plant 
that  we  have  brought  to  birth,  but  the  flower  of  a 
rare  seed  that  an  unseen  hand  has  sown  in  us,  and 
nurtured?  It  is  easy,  of  course,  to  turn  such  a 
thought  into  folly.     Human  nature  is,  unfortunately, 

107 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

so  constituted  that  very  few  minds  are  capable  of 
seeing  both  sides  of  a  truth.  Thus  it  happens  that 
those  who  cling  most  to  the  consoling  thought  of 
a  gospel  of  pure  grace  often  neglect  the  equally  bind- 
ing gospel  of  a  ceaseless  struggle  after  goodness. 
And  again,  the  good  people  who  build  up  a  life  of 
flawless  honour,  integrity,  and  virtue,  often  find, 
because  they  have  not  learned  to  need  it,  a  gospel 
of  grace  incomprehensible.  Yet  both  are  true,  just 
as  it  is  true  that  a  ship  depends  for  its  movement 
equally  on  the  men  who  work  the  pulleys  and  the 
wind  that  fills  the  sails.  So  we  work  out  our  own 
salvation;  but  we  wait  the  Divine  wind,  that  blows 
as  it  listeth,  and  we  move  to  no  heavenly  shores  till 
the  wind  comes  out  of  the  waste  heaven,  and  God 
touches  us.  For  it  is  by  grace,  by  a  Divine  inter- 
ference, that  we  are  saved;  nor  is  there  salvation 
possible  without  it. 

I  do  not  often  dwell  upon  this  mystic  side  of  re- 
ligion, because,  as  I  conceive  the  spirit  of  modern 
life,  few  of  us  are  able  to  bear  it.  We  are  tempted 
by  so  many  tendencies  of  modern  life  to  indifference 
in  religion  that  our  natural  spiritual  indolence  would 
only  be  increased  tenfold  by  the  doctrine  that  salva- 
tion is  all  achieved  for  us.  In  the  age  of  monas- 
ticism,  when  men  and  women  were  seeking  to  work 
out  their  salvation  by  endless  acts  of  penance,  charity, 
self-renunciation,  and  ritual  obedience,  it  was  a  great 
spiritual  discovery  to  tell  men  they  were  saved  not 

108 


GOD'S  POEMS 

of  themselves,  but  by  the  overwhelming  interposition 
of  God.  Such  a  truth,  as  it  was  uttered  by  Luther, 
marked  the  hour  of  daybreak  in  Europe;  as  it  was 
uttered  later  on  by  Wesley,  resulted  in  the  resurgence 
of  all  the  deep  springs  of  spiritual  life  which  had 
been  sealed  for  many  generations  in  England.  It 
was  this  supreme  truth  that  converted  both  Luther 
and  Wesley,  and  the  one  rose  from  Pilate's  staircase 
in  Rome  with  the  dawn  upon  his  brow,  as  a  man 
enfranchised  of  a  new  world:  the  other  in  Aldersgate 
Street  in  half-an-hour  cast  the  husk  of  twenty  years 
of  ritualism,  and  emerged  into  unbounded  spiritual 
liberty.  For  us  also  to  grasp  this  truth  is  life.  Yet 
so  ill-balanced  and  frail  of  judgment  are  we  that 
there  is  only  too  much  peril  of  wresting  such  a  truth 
to  our  destruction.  Rather  for  us  the  most  nec- 
essary truth  to-day  is  that  goodness  can  only  be 
found  by  effort,  that  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  suf- 
fereth  violence,  that  God  will  not  save  us  by  any 
spiritual  necromancy,  that  if  we  are  not  prepared 
to  be  as  earnest  over  religion  as  we  are  over  our 
worldly  affairs,  there  is  no  religion  and  no  salvation 
for  us.  When  men  are  seeking  to  be  saved  by  a 
wrong  method,  yet  are  in  deadly  and  consuming 
earnest  over  it,  as  men  were  when  they  left  all  to  go 
on  painful  pilgrimages  to  the  shrines  of  saints,  it 
is  time  to  say,  "  Poor  soul,  look  up.  You  will  never 
save  yourself;  but  Christ  saves  you,  and  all  out  of 
free  grace."     But  when  men  take  no  count   of  re- 

109 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

ligion,  beyond  giving  it  two  or  three  indolent  hours 
on  the  Sunday:  when  they  care  far  more  for  a  rise 
in  stocks  or  a  turn  in  the  market  than  for  Heaven 
or  Hell,  it  would  be  folly  to  foster  their  indifference 
by  saying,  "  You  need  do  nothing  to  be  saved ;  you 
are  saved  by  grace."  And  it  would  be  untrue  to 
say  it.  There  is  much  that  we  must  do  before  we 
can  hear  the  voice  which  assures  us  that  there  is  a 
gospel  of  grace  that  makes  good  our  deficiencies  and 
does  for  us  what  we  could  not  do  for  ourselves.  It 
is  only  when  we  have  fulfilled  the  gospel  of  works 
that  we  have  any  right  to  comfort  ourselves  with  the 
gospel  of  grace,  for  it  is  only  then  that  we  can  re- 
ceive it  without  injury,  and  rest  in  God  for  final 
salvation  because  we  are  co-workers  with  God  in 
achieving  our  redemption. 

But  the  beauty  and  suggestiveness  of  this  passage 
lies  in  the  use  of  a  single  word  which  is  altogether 
inadequately  rendered  in  our  version.  Translators 
and  scholars  are  seldom  men  of  imagination,  and 
when  a  fine  word  is  given  them,  as  is  the  case  here, 
they  usually  fail  to  use  it  —  fail  for  lack  of  imag- 
ination. We  are  His  workmanship,  His  handicraft: 
it  is  a  good  enough  word,  but  is  not  Paul's  word. 
Paul's  word  is  we  are  His  Poems.  Now  what  is  a 
poem?  It  is  the  finest  flower  of  the  finest  mind.  It 
is  only  once  or  twice  in  a  century  that  Nature  is  able 
to  pro'duce  the  mind  which  has  such  a  happy  equi- 
poise of  faculty  that  its  expression  is  poetry.     It  is 

110 


GOD'S  POEMS 

only  now  and  again  that  even  a  great  poet  produces 
a  true  poem,  which  enters  into  the  mind  and  memory 
of  the  world.  Biographers  of  Wordsworth  have 
marked  the  exact  period  when  his  genius  reached  its 
height,  and  after  that  the  glory  came  only  at  inter- 
vals, and  the  real  poems  were  rare.  And  because  a 
true  poem  is  so  rare  a  thing,  it  has  always  been  ap- 
praised as  the  highest  form  of  literature.  Many 
great  books  come  —  and  go,  but  a  true  poem  is  as 
fresh  after  long  centuries  as  when  it  was  first  written. 
"  Poesy  never  waxeth  old,"  and  knows  no  decay.  It 
knows  no  decay  because  it  is  permeated  with  the  spirit 
of  beauty:  because  it  is  the  enduring  monument  of 
a  combination  of  fine  gifts,  whose  final  result  is  a 
thing  of  beauty  and  a  joy  for  ever.  That  is  what 
a  poem  is,  and  St.  Paul  says  that  we  are  the  expres- 
sion of  the  mind  of  God,  as  the  In  Memoriarn  is  the 
expression  of  the  full  mind  and  heart  of  Tennyson: 
We  are  God's  Poems, 

But  this  very  comparison  opens  another  depth  of 
thought.  Suppose  Paul  had  said  —  We  are  God's 
histories.  That  would  have  been  equally  true,  for 
God  has  written  Himself  upon  the  tablets  of  empire 
and  the  fields  of  battle  where  human  history  is  made. 
But  there  is  this  difference  between  a  poem  and  a 
history :  the  one  is  the  personal  expression  of  a  man's 
soul;  the  other  is  simply  the  work  of  a  man's  mind. 
The  historian  is  not  required  to  express  himself;  on 
the  contrary,  he  is  required  to  leave  himself  out  of 

111 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

the  question,  that  he  may  write  his  history  with  an 
unbiassed  vision.  But  the  poem  depends  entirely  upon 
the  poet  for  its  creation.  It  is  the  unveiling  of  the 
deepest  and  most  intimate  secrecies  of  his  heart. 
His  own  image  is  projected  over  every  page,  and 
it  is  the  poignant  personal  element  in  poetry  that 
makes  it  so  beautiful,  and  gives  it  its  enduring 
charm.  Men,  then,  are  God's  Poems.  The  intima- 
cies of  God's  heart  are  expressed  in  man :  God's  high- 
est thoughts,  God's  deepest  emotions.  The  prayer 
of  Moses  was  that  the  beauty  of  God  might  rest  upon 
him ;  when  a  man  is  finished  at  last  in  the  likeness 
of  Christ,  God's  sense  of  beauty  is  satisfied  in  him, 
God's  art  has  found  its  finest  expression  and  the 
beauty  of  God  does  rest  upon  him.  The  true  Chris- 
tian is  God's  Poem  in  a  world  of  prose;  God's  beauty 
in  a  world  of  gloom:  God's  fine  and  finished  art,  in 
a  world  where  men  forget  beauty,  and  are  careless 
of  moral  symmetry  and  spiritual  grace. 

There  are  two  directions  in  which  we  catch  some 
glimpse  of  these  truths :  we  can  readily  believe  that 
little  children  are  God's  Poems,  and  that  in  the  life 
which  completes  itself  in  moral  unity,  there  is  a  touch 
of  Divine  poetry.  Childhood  is  itself  the  poetry  of 
life,  and  many  a  man  whose  soul  has  been  thrilled 
with  the  charm  of  little  children,  has  said  with  Long- 
fellow :  — 

You  are  better  than  all  the  ballads 
That  ever  were  sung  or  said, 
112 


GOD'S  POEMS 

For  you  are  the  living  poems 
And  all  the  rest  are  dead. 

If  God  indeed  looks  down  on  earth  and  smiles,  chil- 
dren are  His  smiles ;  if  He  indeed  is  a  Poet,  these 
are  His  Poems.  And  so,  also,  when  we  see  the  rare 
spectacle  of  a  life  that  from  first  to  last  is  governed 
by  high  thoughts,  moves  on  a  high  level,  is  held  to- 
gether by  a  noble  unity  of  design  and  effort,  we  can 
see  that  this  life  is  like  a  gleam  of  noble  poetry  on 
the  dull  page  of  life.  Look  then  at  these  things, 
and  you  will  understand  Paul's  words  —  We  are 
God's  Poems.  Christianity  gives  back  to  life  its 
first  fresh  childlikeness,  and  says  we  must  be  as  little 
children;  it  gives  the  fine  unity  of  the  noblest  aim  to 
the  life  that  obeys  its  mandate.  Christ  works  out 
by  His  indwelling  the  image  of  true  beauty  in  us, 
so  that,  at  the  last,  we  move  through  the  throngs  of 
men  with  a  light  that  never  was  on  sea  or  land  upon 
us,  a  charm  akin  to  the  exquisite  and  indefinable 
charm  of  poetry,  for  in  truth  we  have  become  God's 
Poems,  and  are  the  thought  of  God  interpreted  in 
human  forms. 

But  not  only  in  the  child,  and  in  the  life  that 
manifests  a  real  and  noble  unity,  do  we  gather  the 
suggestion  of  this  passage;  have  we  not  also  seen 
the  concrete  examples  of  what  is  meant  in  men  and 
women  we  have  known?  When  Carlyle  describes 
Elizabeth  Fry  standing  fair  as  a  lily,  in  pure  woman- 
liness, amid  the  abominable  sights  of  old  Newgate; 

113 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

or  Longfellow  describes  Florence  Nightingale  moving 
with  her  lamp  among  the  wounded  at  Scutari  — 

And  slow,  as  in  a  dream  of  bliss 
The  speechless  sufferer  turns  to  kiss 
Her  shadow,  as  it  falls 
Along  the  darkening  walls  — 

what  is  the  effect  on  the  mind?  It  is  the  effect 
of  poetry.  We  feel  touched,  purged,  exalted:  we 
know  that  these  women  were  in  truth  God's  Poems. 
And  there  are  men  and  women  in  the  world  still  who 
touch  the  soul  by  the  same  Divine  magic.  We  feel 
better  for  having  seen  them ;  the  air  is  sweetened  when 
they  come;  the  mind  finds  joy  in  them,  and  the 
heart  is  rested.  When  a  man  like  this  enters  the  home 
of  sorrow,  the  sunshine  comes  in  with  him ;  when  such 
a  woman  enters  a  room  full  of  vain,  worldly,  and 
frivolous  people,  the  range  of  thought  is  instantly 
raised,  and  the  whole  atmosphere  of  the  room  is 
purged  and  freshened.  God's  poetry  has  interrupted 
for  a  time  the  prose  of  life.  We  have  felt  as  though 
a  shining  presence  had  been  with  us,  and  our  poor 
sordid  pleasure-seeking  life  has  felt  strangely  mean 
to  us.  That  is  precisely  the  effect  of  poetry,  it  lifts 
us  into  a  higher  world ;  that  also  is  the  effect  of  the 
man  or  woman  in  whom  Christ  dwells  —  they  make 
the  poetry  of  life  and  move  through  the  world  to  the 
sound  of  far-off  music,  that  floats  in  wind-borne 
harmonies    into    the    hearts    of    the    least    sensitive. 

114 


GOD'S  POEMS 

There  is  no  more  difficulty  in  recognising  these  living 
poems  than  there  is  in  feeling  the  difference  between 
poetry  and  prose.  Jesus  Christ  was  God's  great  and 
perfect  Poem,  and  He  sets  the  standard  of  perfec- 
tion ;  and  as  we  are  like  Him,  so  do  we  reach  a  higher 
image  and  become  the  Poems  of  God. 

And  so  we  touch  a  yet  deeper  truth  —  the  God 
who  wrought  the  perfect  Poem  of  Jesus  Christ  is 
still  creating  and  finishing  His  Poems  —  not  copies, 
mark  you ;  not  mere  echoes,  but  new  Poems  —  com- 
plete and  individual,  though  all  conforming  to  the 
type  of  beauty  Christ  has  given  us.  The  usual,  be- 
cause the  easiest,  way  of  preaching  Christ  is  to  preach 
Him  as  an  example,  and  to  tell  men  to  copy  Him. 
It  is  right  as  far  as  it  goes,  but  it  does  not  go  far 
enough.  We  need  to  copy  Christ,  to  compare  our 
conduct  with  His,  to  measure  our  motive  by  His 
ideal;  and  even  John  Stuart  Mill  said  there  was  no 
finer  law  of  conduct  than  to  ask  how  Christ  would 
have  acted  and  spoken  in  any  difficult  set  of  circum- 
stances which  we  may  encounter.  But  does  the  man 
who  copies  Raphael  become  a  Raphael?  Does  the 
man  who  moulds  his  music  on  the  Tennysonian  melody 
become  a  Tennyson?  Where  in  art  or  letters  do  we 
find  the  copyist  ever  treated  with  respect?  By  what 
is  art  or  poetry  richer  for  the  laborious  copies  of 
Raphael  or  Rubens,  or  the  slavish  echoes  of  Eliza- 
bethan or  Tennysonian  poetry,  which  have  filled  the 
reams  of  unsold  books,  or  acres  of  unmarketable  can- 

115 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

vas?  And  neither  is  it  the  end  of  Christianity  to 
fill  the  world  with  weak  copies  of  Christ.  The  phon- 
ograph can  retain  the  inflections  of  the  human  voice, 
and  reproduce  them,  but  after  all  it  is  not  the  human 
voice.  To  hear  Bryan  speak  or  Nordica  sing  is  a 
very  different  thing  from  hearing  the  thin  reduplica- 
tion and  echo  of  their  voices  through  the  phonograph. 
It  may  be  claimed  that  the  echo  is  exact ;  that  inflec- 
tion by  inflection,  it  utters  the  very  words  that  elo- 
quent or  lyric  lips  have  uttered;  but  one  word  from 
the  living  lip  is  worth  all  that  the  phonograph  can 
ever  give  us.  No ;  Christianity  aims  at  nothing  less 
than  to  make  us  new  and  living  Christs  in  this  world 
of  the  twentieth  century,  spreading  the  same  influence, 
living  in  the  same  temper,  ready  to  suffer  and  die 
in  the  same  spirit  as  Jesus  did  centuries  ago  in  Pales- 
tine. It  claims  not  to  make  copies  but  creations. 
It  claims  not  to  stamp  new  patterns  on  old  cloth, 
but  to  make  all  things  new.  It  does  not  merely 
change  a  man,  it  transforms  him  into  a  new  image. 
It  produces  not  slavish  echoes  of  the  great  poetry 
of  Christ,  but  Poems  —  men  and  women  in  whom 
again  God  utters  Himself,  and  expresses  His  infinite 
Art. 

Let  us  then  gather  up  the  practical  lessons  of  the 
thought. 

And  the  first  is  that  such  a  magnificent  conception 
of  what  a  man  may  be  should  be  at  once  a  restraint 

116 


GOD'S  POEMS 

and  impulse  to  us.  Who  can  think  meanly  of  life 
or  of  himself  with  such  a  phrase  ringing  in  his  mind? 
And  the  commonest  temptation  of  life,  especially  in 
great  cities,  is  not  to  think  too  highly  of  ourselves 
but  too  meanly.  We  are  likelier  to  perish  by 
despondence  than  by  pride,  by  self-contempt  than 
vanity.  We  are  daily  tempted  by  the  very  multitu- 
dinousness  of  life  to  think  poorly  of  our  own  oppor- 
tunities, to  tell  ourselves  that  great  ideals  are  not 
possible  for  such  as  we  are,  that  the  heights  are  out 
of  reach,  that  for  us  the  poetry  of  life  is  a  closed 
book,  a  denied  and  forfeited  delight.  And  when  men 
think  thus,  what  wonder  is  it  that  they  act  poorly? 
What  marvel  that  they  permit  the  growth  of  narrow- 
ness and  poor-spiritedness  in  themselves,  that  they 
learn  to  do  mean  things  and  tread  in  sordid  ways, 
that  they  cease  to  care  anything  for  the  dignity  of 
life,  and  in  mind  and  morals  become  slovenly  and 
careless,  till  last  of  all  they  fall  out  of  the  range 
of  the  wisest  and  best  voices,  and  hear  them  no  more, 
nor  regret  their  loss?  It  is  in  such  hours  we  need 
to  remind  ourselves  of  the  dignity  of  life,  and  that 
man  was  at  first,  and  still  may  be,  God's  Poem.  We 
all  know  how  Carlyle  vituperated  at  what  he  called 
Darwin's  "  gorilla  damnifications  of  humanity,"  and 
ethically  he  was  right.  Man  does  not  need  to  be  told 
of  the  depth  from  which  he  has  sprung,  but  of  the 
height  to  which  he  may  reach.  He  needs  to  hear  less 
of  the  descent  of  man  and  more  of  the  ascent  of 

117 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

man  through  Jesus  Christ.  When  you  are  tempted 
to  let  your  ideals  of  youth  slip  out  of  sight,  to  give 
up  the  pursuit  of  excellence  and  turn  from  the  dif- 
ficult path  that  leads  to  life,  to  take  a  poor  mean- 
spirited  view  of  life  and  live  in  accordance  with  it, 
here  then  is  your  sovereign  remedy;  look  to  Christ 
and  see  what  He  was,  how  He  lived,  what  He  is  to 
the  world  to-day,  and  remember  that  you,  too,  may 
be  a  Poem  of  God,  created  in  Christ  Jesus  unto  good 
works. 

To  do  this  will  also  help  you  to  think  well  of  all 
men.  There  are  many  men  in  the  world  who  are  illeg- 
ible poems  —  illegible  to  us  who  can  see  no  element 
of  God's  poetry  in  them,  yet  not  one  of  them  is 
utterly  without  the  faint  outlines  of  God's  intention 
visible  in  him.  To  us  the  early  Saxon  poetry  is 
practically  unintelligible;  but  when  a  scholar  takes 
it  up,  and  fits  piece  to  piece,  and  finds  the  sequence 
of  thought  and  rhythm,  it  becomes  at  once  noble 
poetry,  the  force  and  fulness  of  which  all  can  feel. 
Let  us  think  of  our  brother  man  in  the  same  spirit. 
Nay,  more,  let  us  think  of  the  world  itself  as  a 
Poem  that  is  still  being  written,  and  which  will  at 
the  last  be  worthy  of  the  art  of  God.  Hope  for  our- 
selves ;  Hope  for  our  brother  man ;  Hope  for  the 
world ;  that  is  the  true  Christian  spirit.  Believe  that 
God's  will  is  being  done;  that  He  is  still  working  in 
the  world;  that  He  must  conquer;  that  every  day 

118 


GOD'S  POEMS 

is  really  bringing  us  nearer  to  the  new  earth  wherein 
dwelleth  righteousness. 

More  than  once  in  those  long  nights  I  spent  on 
the  Atlantic,  I  went  on  deck  when  all  was  still,  and 
felt  how  insignificant  a  thing  was  man,  in  all  that 
lonely  immensity  of  sea  and  sky.  There  was  no 
sound  save  the  cry  of  the  wind  among  the  spars,  the 
throb  of  the  great  engines,  the  sound  of  the  many 
waters  rushing  round  the  vessel's  keel.  I  felt  the 
mystery  of  life ;  I  was  conscious  of  "  the  whisper  and 
moan  and  wonder  and  diapason  of  the  sea."  And 
then  out  of  the  stillness  there  came  a  voice,  clear  and 
ringing  —  the  voice  of  the  man  on  the  look-out  cry- 
ing to  the  night,  "  All's  well,  and  the  lights  burn 
bright !  All's  well,  and  the  lights  burn  bright ! " 
How  did  I  know  all  was  well?  What  knew  I  of  the 
forces  that  were  bridled  in  the  mysterious  throbbing 
heart  of  those  unceasing  engines,  of  the  peril  that 
glared  on  me  in  the  breaking  wave,  or  lay  hidden 
in  the  dark  cloud  that  lay  along  the  horizon?  I 
knew  nothing;  but  the  voice  went  sounding  on  over 
the  sea :  "All's  well,  and  the  lights  burn  bright ! " 
And  the  wind  carried  it  away  across  the  waters,  and 
it  palpitated  round  the  world,  and  it  went  up  soaring 
and  trembling,  in  ever  fainter  reverberations,  among 
the  stars.  So  I  stand  for  a  little  while  amid  great 
forces  of  which  I  know  little ;  but  I  am  not  alone 
in  the  empty  night.  The  world  moves  on  to  some 
appointed  goal,  though  by  what  paths  I  know  not; 

119 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

it  has  its  Steersman,  and  it  will  arrive.  And,  amid 
the  loneliness  and  mystery,  the  peril  and  uncertainty, 
I  have  learned  to  hear  a  Voice  that  cries,  "  All's 
well ! "  and  tells  me  why  all  is  well ;  it  is  the  Voice  of 
Christ  saying,  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you  always,  even  to 
the  end  of  the  world."  God  has  not  left  His  world. 
He  is  working  out  His  supreme  Art  in  it  every  day, 
and  if  we  be  true  Christians  we  are  God's  Poems 
wrought  in  Christ  Jesus  unto  good  works. 


120 


ELIJAH'S  LONELINESS 


VII 

ELIJAH'S  LONELINESS 

"And  he  said,  I  have  been  very  jealous  for  the  Lord  God  of 
hosts:  for  the  children  of  Israel  have  forsaken  thy  covenant, 
thrown  down  thine  altars,  and  slain  thy  prophets  with  the 
sword;  and  I,  even  I  only,  am  left;  and  they  seek  my  life  to 
take  it  away." — I  Kings  xix.  10. 

IN  the  lives  of  all  great  men  there  come  hours 
of  spiritual  crisis,  which  are  often  inexplicable 
in  their  origin  and  tragic  in  their  results.  Brave 
men  are  swept  away  by  sudden  tides  of  cowardice, 
heroic  men  know  the  ignominy  of  fear  and  the  agony 
of  despondence.  No  character  is  built  upon  quite 
simple  lines:  often  it  is  the  coherence  of  antagonistic 
tendencies  —  as  we  see  in  John,  who  was  the  apostle 
of  love  and  yet  is  the  very  type  of  intolerance;  of 
Peter,  who  is  the  bravest  of  the  brave,  and  yet  was 
thrice  a  coward  and  a  liar.  We  are  all  conscious, 
if  we  take  any  care  to  observe  ourselves,  of  sudden 
lowerings  of  spiritual  temperature,  of  nameless  move- 
ments in  our  own  hearts,  out  of  which,  as  out  of  the 
stirring  of  a  wind,  comes  a  gray  cloud  that  spreads 
itself  over  the  firmament  of  life.  It  is  such  an  hour 
in  the  life  of  Elijah.     The  passion  and  excitement 

123 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

of  the  great  scene  on  Carmel  have  passed  away.  The 
re-action  is  upon  him.  He  is  fugitive  and  foodless, 
and  the  faintness  of  despair  spreads  itself  through 
his  heart.  He  magnifies  his  own  sensations  till  every 
detail  stands  out  in  gigantic  emphasis:  he  is  alone 
on  the  side  of  right,  and  the  whole  world  is  leagued 
against  him.  Do  not  we  in  the  same  manner,  in  our 
hours  of  despondence,  set  out  all  our  feelings,  our 
failures,  our  broken  ambitions  in  the  same  gigantic 
array,  till  we  persuade  ourselves  that  none  have  drunk 
as  bitter  cups  as  we,  none  have  been  so  hardly  used, 
so  little  valued,  so  unjustly  scorned!  We  even  per- 
suade ourselves  that  death  is  sweet,  and  with  a  bitter 
daring  we  call  on  the  last  hour  to  come  and  put  an 
end  to  us.  The  keynote  of  such  a  condition  is  an 
exaggerated  egoism :  it  is  only  in  such  hours  of  hurt 
vanity,  and  wounded  pride,  that  we  cry  — "  O  Lord, 
take  away  my  life,  for  I  am  not  better  than  my 
fathers." 

But  if  we  look  a  little  closer  we  shall  see  that  there 
is  something  more  than  hurt  egoism  here,  and  some- 
thing deeper.  What  is  this  sorrow  that  weighs  so 
heavily  on  so  great  a  heart  as  Elijah's,  that  he  calls 
for  the  angel  of  the  last  hour  to  give  him  ease?  It 
is  the  sorrow  of  an  overwhelming  loneliness,  it  is  such 
a  loneliness  as  Shelley  has  pictured  in  immortal  verse : 

Alas,  I  have  nor  hope,  nor  health, 
Nor  peace  within,  nor  calm  around, 
Nor  that  content  surpassing  wealth, 
1U 


ELIJAH'S       LONELINESS 

The  sage  in  meditation  found, 

And  walked  with  inward  glory  crowned. 

Nor  fame,  nor  power,  nor  love,  nor  leisure, 

Others  I  see  whom  these  surround, 

Smiling  they  live,  and  call  life  pleasure, 

To  me  that  cup  has  been  dealt  in  another  measure ; 

I  could  lie  down  like  a  tired  child, 

And  weep  away  the  life  of  care, 

Which  I  have  borne,  and  yet  must  bear. 

It  is  the  sense  that  no  one  sympathises  with  our  deep- 
est thoughts,  that  our  ideals  are  not  the  ideals  of  the 
world,  that  our  best  actions  are  misconstrued,  our 
best  gifts  fail  equally  of  recognition  and  reward. 
Life  is  not  dealt  in  this  measure  to  others  —  this  is 
the  bitterness  of  it.  Ahab  and  Jezebel  and  the  care- 
less and  sensual  crowd  who  gather  in  the  flower- 
decked  temples  of  Baal  find  a  joy  in  life  which  is 
denied  to  you.  Thousands  of  people  pass  you  in 
the  street  who  find  restfulness  even  in  the  dulness  of 
their  lives,  because  they  have  no  aims  beyond  the 
satisfaction  of  the  meanest  desires.  You  would  fain 
do  great  things  for  the  world,  and  you  can  do  noth- 
ing. You  follow  the  gleam  of  a  vision  others  do  not 
see;  or  hear  of,  only  to  deride.  You  do  not  even 
gain  the  vision  yourself  —  it  is  but  a  troublous 
glimpse,  as  of  a  star  swimming  for  an  instant  into 
a  little  lake  of  blue  between  heavy  clouds.  What  is 
the  use  of  trying?  O  Lord,  take  away  my  life,  for 
I  am  not  better  than  my  fathers !     Every  man  who 

125 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

aspires  after  high  things  feels  thus:  if  we  have  not 
felt  it,  it  is  because  we  have  never  known  such  aspi- 
ration. 

Loneliness  is  the  commonest  of  all  human  miseries, 
and  if  we  are  to  understand  this  phase  of  Elijah's 
life,  and  the  cure  of  it,  let  us  begin  by  admitting  this 
fact.  In  the  plainest  sense  of  the  word  we  are  lonely, 
and  cannot  be  otherwise.  Those  who  know  and  love 
us  best  know  not  half  the  reasons  why  we  sigh  or 
smile.  Men  and  women  may  live  together  in  what 
seems  the  closest  intimacy  for  years,  and  yet  keep 
within  their  hearts  reserved  and  barriered  chambers 
to  which  neither  has  the  key.  Children  may  grow  up 
in  a  home,  and  yet  be  utterly  alien  in  the  deeper 
things  of  the  spirit.  Our  life  may  be  spent  among 
crowds,  and  yet  the  vast  silence  which  encloses  the 
heart  may  never  once  be  broken.  For  many  of  us 
the  effort  to  explain  ourselves  is  impossible ;  when  we 
would  fain  speak  a  fatal  reticence  seals  our  lips,  and 
the  golden  hour  passes  and  never  comes  again.  For 
others  among  us  the  golden  hour  never  strikes.  As 
life  passes  out  of  that  season  when  confidences  are 
most  easily  exchanged,  we  are  more  and  more  driven 
back  upon  ourselves.  It  pains  us  to  see  the  ease 
with  which  others  seem  to  find  an  apparent  unity  of 
life,  because  for  us  it  seems  always  out  of  reach. 
Have  we  not  all  felt  how  true  this  is  ?  Do  I,  who  am 
your  friend  and  minister,  know  your  lives  —  your 
real  inward  lives  —  in  any  but  the  most  superficial 

126 


ELIJAH'S       LONELINESS 

way?  Do  you  know  mine?  Is  not  every  word  of 
comfort  or  counsel  uttered  from  the  pulpit  a  bow 
drawn  at  a  venture,  for  who  can  tell  where  is  the 
heart  to  whom  it  appeals  ?  Like  ships  at  sea  we  meet 
and  pass  and  exchange  greeting  —  and  then  sail  out 
again  upon  the  lonely  waters  —  nor  can  all  the  ships 
upon  the  sea  ever  make  those  waters  other  than  a 
far-stretched  loneliness.  Far  away  we  sail,  meeting 
for  a  moment,  and  then  dipping  downward  toward 
opposite  horizons,  and  unplumbed  seas  roll  between 
us.  This  is  one  of  the  conditions  of  life  —  keenly 
felt  by  some,  less  keenly  by  others  —  but  in  some 
degree  even  by  the  most  thoughtless,  and  perhaps 
most  keenly  by  those  of  whom  we  suspect  it  least. 

Now  with  Elijah  this  loneliness  has  two  forms:  it 
is  the  loneliness  of  being  misunderstood  —  and  equally 
of  misunderstanding.  He  has  the  consciousness  of 
having  acted  rightly,  nobly,  heroically  —  and  of 
having  failed.  He  knows  himself  to  possess  the  only 
true  clue  of  life.  Far  from  the  false  and  fevered 
life  of  courts  and  cities,  he  has  nourished  his  soul  in 
strenuous  simplicity  of  thought  and  righteousness  of 
conduct.  He  would  fain  have  all  Israel  in  corre- 
spondence with  his  ideal.  He  is  absolutely  sure  that 
the  one  path  of  national  happiness  is  that  to  which 
he  points,  and  he  cannot  understand  that  what  is  so 
obvious  to  him,  should  be  so  incomprehensible  to 
others.  Every  man  who  aims  at  the  reform  of  so- 
ciety has  to  endure  this  bitterness.     The  youth  who 

127 


THE      DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

tries  to  live  a  life  of  chivalry  and  purity  in  the  office : 
the  merchant  who  cares  more  for  honour  than  for 
gain:  the  statesman  who  is  determined  to  steer  a 
straight  course  in  opposition  to  the  casuistries  of 
party  interest:  the  social  reformer  who  has  mastered 
the  right  principles  of  social  betterment,  and  is  de- 
termined to  apply  them  —  all  feel  this  pain  of  being 
misunderstood.  It  amazes  and  hurts  them  beyond 
measure  to  find  that  the  world  not  merely  does  not 
believe  in  their  ideals,  but  believes  still  less  in  their 
own  purity  of  aim.  The  higher  they  climb  the  deeper 
is  the  loneliness  which  encompasses  them,  and  it  is 
with  a  shock  that  they  discover  that  few  or  none 
follow  them,  till  at  the  foot  of  some  last  inaccessible 
summit,  on  which  a  desolate  and  unanswering  serenity 
dwells,  they  fall  and  cry  — "  Lord,  take  away  my 
life ;  what  am  I  better  than  my  fathers  ?  " 

But  this  loneliness  is  equally  the  loneliness  of  mis- 
understanding. Elijah  completely  underrates  his  own 
work  and  influence.  He  says  that  he  alone  serves 
the  Lord  —  it  is  not  true.  There  are  seven  thousand 
quiet  and  unknown  souls  who  serve  Him  too,  and  who 
have  not  bowed  to  Baal.  The  influence  of  a  man  like 
Elijah  travels  in  the  atmosphere.  His  words  are 
flashed  by  a  sudden  spiritual  telepathy  upon  a  thou- 
sand ears,  of  which  he  knows  nothing.  You  can 
count  heads,  you  can  tabulate  numbers,  but  you  can- 
not reckon  influences.  The  lifting  of  a  hand,  the 
breathing  of  a  word,  reports  itself  on  waves  of  im- 

128 


ELIJAH'S       LONELINESS 

perceptible  vibration  to  the  furthest  stars,  and  can 
a  moral  influence  like  Elijah's  fail  to  touch  men? 
Here  and  there  a  man  says  to  the  speaker  of  a  truth, 
or  the  writer  of  a  book,  Sir,  you  have  blessed  me: 
but  how  many  have  received  the  same  message  and 
the  same  blessing  and  said  nothing?  Is  it  not  true 
that  the  men  who  have  seemed  to  fail  have  often  been 
the  only  men  in  a  generation  who  have  really  suc- 
ceeded? John  Keats,  dying  young,  poor,  and  derided 
in  Rome,  thought  that  he  had  failed,  and  said  his 
name  was  written  in  water :  we  know  that  it  was  writ- 
ten in  adamant,  and  that  he  ranks  with  the  immortals. 
Robertson  of  Brighton,  dying  in  the  prime  of  man- 
hood, after  a  relatively  obscure  and  bitterly  mis- 
understood ministry,  seemed  to  have  failed:  we  know 
to-day  that  his  sermons  have  touched  the  very  springs 
of  modern  life,  and  have  affected  the  teaching  of  the 
pulpit  as  perhaps  no  others  ever  have.  Years  after 
the  death  of  Robertson,  a  Brighton  tradesman  said 
that  whenever  he  was  tempted  to  any  underhand  trick 
or  lying  compromise  in  business,  he  went  into  the 
little  room  behind  his  shop,  and  looked  at  Robertson's 
portrait  and  then  felt  he  could  not  do  it.  Can  any 
man  be  said  to  have  failed  who  can  produce  this  feel- 
ing in  another  man?  The  fact  is,  truth  and  good- 
ness never  fail,  and  there  is  more  truth  and  goodness 
in  the  world  than  we  suppose.  The  best  influences 
of  a  good  man's  life  are  never  known  to  him:  if 
they  were  he  could  not  say,  "  I,  even  I  only,  am  left 

129 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

a  prophet  of  the  Lord,"  for  his  ears  would  be  filled 
with  the  march  music  of  that  innumerable  army  who 
throughout  the  world  fear  God  and  work  righteous- 
ness, and  are  his  faithful  comrades  and  eternal  broth- 
ers in  arms. 

i 

Elijah  was  presently  to  learn  this  lesson,  but  be- 
fore he  learned  it  he  was  to  pass  through  a  great 
experience.  At  this  point  all  that  we  see  is  this 
gaunt  and  tragic  figure  in  the  desert  —  the  strong 
man  weak,  the  hero  unmanned,  lonely  with  so  vast 
a  loneliness  that  his  mouth  is  full  of  reproach,  his 
heart  of  bitterness.  What  was  that  experience?  In 
what  way  did  he  discover  the  cure  of  loneliness? 
God  calls  him  forth  to  look  upon  a  great  and  ter- 
rible sight,  and  through  the  symbols  of  that  vision 
we  may  find  our  way  to  the  cure,  as  Elijah  did.  Now 
the  essence  of  this  vision  is  that  it  is  a  series  of  pro- 
posed cures  for  loneliness,  each  of  which  fails,  until 
we  reach  the  last. 

First  of  all,  freedom  is  suggested  as  a  cure  for 
loneliness.  As  Elijah  stands  in  the  mouth  of  the 
cave,  and  looks  out,  a  great  and  strong  wind  rises 
and  rends  the  mountains:  and  this  we  may  take  as 
the  symbol  of  freedom.  The  mighty  wind  that  beats 
over  land  and  sea  breathes  the  very  spirit  of  liberty. 
It  calls  to  the  lonely  man,  and  says,  "  Come,  share 
the  liberty  of  my  life:  travel  forth  with  me:  go  out 
on  your  world-wandering  with  me:  and  in  the  thrill 
of  speed  and  movement  all  loneliness  of  soul  will  be 

130 


ELIJAH'S       LONELINESS 

charmed  away."  That  cry  rings  through  all  the 
movements  of  our  time.  Men  who  are  lonely  because 
they  cannot  find  God,  because  truth  eludes  them,  be- 
cause impracticable  ideals  torture  them,  are  told  to 
claim  the  freedom  of  the  earth,  and  leave  a  diseased 
society  to  heal  itself. 

The  days  are  dark  and  cold,  and  the  skies  are  gray 

and  old, 
And  the  twice-breathed  air  blows  damp : 
You  have  heard  the  beat  of  the  off-shore  wind, 
And  the  thresh  of  the  deep  sea  rain, 
You  have  heard  the  song,  how  long,  how  long, 
Put  out  on  the  trail  again. 

And  who  that  is  not  wholly  deadened  in  heart  does 
not  sometimes  thrill  to  the  appeal?  Why  toil  for  a 
society  that  does  not  seek  to  understand  you,  and  will 
not  love  you?  Life  is  short,  and  the  joy  of  life  is 
shorter  than  life.  In  a  few  years  the  stiffness  and 
rigidity  of  age  will  creep  over  thought  and  impulse, 
and  the  days  will  come  when  we  say  we  have  no 
pleasure  in  them.  So  the  wind  thunders  by,  and  calls 
to  the  lonely  man,  and  it  is  as  though  all  the  trumpets 
of  liberty  blew,  and  the  hard  task  drops  from  the 
hands  at  the  sound,  and  the  man  in  the  cave's  mouth 
stretches  forward,  as  though  he  would  beat  out  his 
way  into  that  primeval  freedom  where  there  is  no 
quest  of  truth,  no  burden  of  duty,  no  torturing  ideals 
—  but  one  thought  arrests  him  —  God  is  not  in  the 

131 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

wind.  Liberty  without  God,  what  cure  is  there  in 
that  for  the  soul  of  man?  No,  let  the  wind  thunder 
past,  until  at  last  it  dies  away,  far  off  in  the  hollows 
of  the  night  —  there  is  no  cure  here  —  for  God  is  not 
in  the  wind. 

This  truth  is  clear  and  manifest  enough,  if  we 
think  of  it,  but  how  slow  we  are  to  learn  it.  For 
does  it  not  all  lie  in  this,  that  we  cannot  fly  from 
ourselves?  Merlin,  as  he  wanders  in  the  enchanted 
forest  of  the  Arthurian  legend,  is  free  —  in  a  sense, 
indeed:  but  in  no  real  sense.  And  why?  Because 
"  he  is  crushed  and  haunted,  and  vexed  for  ever  by 
dim,  unappeasable  shadows  of  doom  —  whispers  of 
the  inexpiable,  the  irretrievable,  the  gone,  the  lost, 
the  harvest  passed,  the  summer  ended ! "  In  other 
words,  he  is  haunted  by  himself.  No  man  ever  yet 
found  anything  but  sorrow  in  flying  from  a  duty. 
Emigration  is  no  cure  for  heartache.  We  have  to 
live  with  ourselves,  whatever  stars  shine  over  us,  and 
the  man  who  lives  with  a  dishonoured  self,  lives  with 
misery.  No:  such  revolt  as  this  is  no  gain.  The 
man  in  the  cave's  mouth  may  well  draw  his  mantle 
over  his  head  and  turn  away,  for  God  is  not  in  the 
wind. 

And  after  the  wind  there  came  an  earthquake  — 
of  what  is  this  the  symbol?  May  it  not  stand  for 
that  violence  of  action,  that  whirl  of  things,  which 
always  attracts  the  lonely  man  and  promises  to  cure 
his  grief?     The  kingdoms  of  the  earth  are  always 

132 


ELIJAH'S       LONELINESS 


being  shaken,  social  edifices  are  falling,  shocks  and 
changes  are  running  through  the  nations,  and  amid 
the   confusion  there  is   an   endless   opportunity   for 
ambition.     The  earthquake  is  even  now  shaking  the 
throne   of   Ahab,   and   why   should   not   a   man   of 
Elijah's  force  and  courage  seize  that  throne?     The 
shaking  of  the  old  kingdoms  always  gives  a  chance 
to  the  ambitious  man:  it  is  the  opportunity  of  Na- 
poleon, and  on  the  ruins   of  the   earthquake  which 
overwhelmed  Europe,  he  builds  his  power.     And  for 
us,  in  lesser  measure,  the  same  vision  is  set.     We  can 
give  up  troublesome  ideals  and  live  for  self.     Amid 
the  crash  of  other  people's  fortunes  we  can  seize  the 
chance  to   make   our   own.     We  need   not   even   be 
sordid  or  meanly  ambitious:  we  may  find  our  lure  in 
the  power  that  comes  to  ability,  amid  the  shif tings 
and  uncertainties  of  society.     Again  the  man  in  the 
cave's  mouth  looks  out,  and  sees  the  shock  run  along 
the  hills  and  shatter  them,  and  feels  the  vast  vibration 
like  a  wave  beneath  his  feet,  that  lifts  him  onward 
and  outward  to  a  great  career  of  power,  of  pride, 
of  fame,  but  once  more  the  thought  arrests  him  — 
God  is  not  in  the  earthquake.     Such  a  life  might  fill 
the  heart  with  noise;  never  with  peace.     It  might 
drown   thought,   it   could   not   uplift   it.     It   might 
drive  loneliness  away  in  its  merely  superficial  forms, 
but  it  would  leave  the  heart  emptier,  lonelier,  more 
isolated  than  ever.     The   seismic  wave   subsides   be- 
neath his  feet,  and  once  more  he  draws  his  mantle 

133 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

over  his  brows,  and  says,  No.     Here  also  is  no  cure 
—  God  is  not  in  the  earthquake. 

And  after  the  earthquake  came  a  -fire:  the  storm 
followed,  and  the  live  lightning  leapt  from  crag  to 
crag,  and  the  whole  body  of  the  heavens  became 
a  mass  of  flame  and  splendour.  It  was  the  spec- 
tacle of  the  greatness  and  grandeur  of  Nature. 
Who  is  Elijah,  who  and  what  is  any  man  in  the 
presence  of  that  elemental  majesty?  How  small 
and  vain  all  our  poor  earthly  contentions  seem 
when  the  silence  of  the  stars,  the  diapason  of  the 
thunder,  the  rush  of  the  tempest  fills  our  imagi- 
nation! We  ask  our  little  questions  but  there  is 
no  reply;  there  is  even  the  suspicion  of  ghostly 
laughter  in  that  hollow  whisper  of  the  night,  of 
contempt  in  that  tremendous  voice  of  the  thunder. 
In  that  vast  battle  of  the  heavens,  man  and  all  his 
petty  armaments  are  overwhelmed;  Ahab  and  Elijah 
are  forgotten,  Baal  and  Jezebel  are  words  without 
significance.  And  this  also  we  have  felt,  and  to 
the  man  of  grieved  and  lonely  heart,  Nature  is 
proposed  to-day,  as  she  has  always  been,  as  the 
great  mother  who  alone  can  heal  us.  Yet  when 
have  we  ever  found  it  so?  To  the  finer  sense  there 
is  indeed  a  species  of  communion  with  Nature,  but 
it  is  loneliness  answering  loneliness  not  healing  it. 
Wordsworth,  more  than  any  other  man,  sought  that 
communion  and  found  it,  but  even  with  him  the 
cure  was  only  partial,  but  he  tells  us  — * 

134 


ELIJAH'S       LONELINESS 

Me,  this  unchartered  freedom  tires, 
I  feel  the  weight  of  chance  desires. 

Byron  sought  it,  when  he  fled  from  the  devastating 
passions  of  London  to  the  icy  stillness  of  the  Alps, 
but  of  him  it  is  said  — 

No  hush  fell  on  him,  where  the  might 
Of  snow-capped  peaks  in  solitude 
Taught  greater  souls  serenity: 
Ah,  vain  his  flight  who  flees  from  good. 
Until  man  from  himself  can  fly 
What  ease  comes  to  him  in  his  flight? 

If  indeed  Nature  can  cure  the  lonely  heart,  why 
was  not  Elijah  cured,  for  in  the  desert  he  was  alone 
with  Nature  in  its  wildest  forms  of  beauty  and  deso- 
lation? Yet  can  we  not  fancy  this  man  once  more 
bending  forth  from  the  cave's  mouth,  thrilled  and 
dazzled  by  the  splendour  of  the  storm,  thinking 
within  himself  that  here  in  this  cave  he  may  find 
a  rest  —  that  here  he  can  dwell  content  and  secure 
in  the  lap  of  Nature,  and  share  her  calm,  and 
rejoice  in  her  terrors,  and  leave  Ahab  and  all  the 
vain  world  forevermore  alone?  But  again  the 
thought  arrests  him  —  God  is  not  in  the  storm.  No, 
man  wants  something  more  than  beauty  and  mag- 
nificence to  fill  his  heart.  He  needs  duties,  love, 
truth  —  the  certainty  and  the  manifestation  of  God ; 
and  the  heavens  burn  in  yet  more  blinding  splendour, 

135 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

and  the  thunder  rolls  in  yet  nearer  magnificence  — 
but  God  is  not  m  the  fire! 

And  then  at  last  a  thing  strange  and  wonderful 
happened  —  the  wind,  the  earthquake,  the  thunder 
all  pass,  and  a  thrilling  silence  fills  the  desert. 
Earth  and  sky  are  hushed  into  deepest  calm,  ex- 
hausted by  the  passage  of  so  much  terror  and 
confusion,  and  there  is  no  sound  save  the  faint  breath- 
ing of  the  man  in  the  cave's  mouth,  who  still  gazes 
into  the  void.  And  after  the  fire  came  a  still,  small 
voice  —  and  at  that  voice  the  soul  of  the  man 
thrilled,  for  it  was  the  voice  of  God.  "  What  doest 
thou  here,  Elijah?  "  It  was  the  voice  of  rebuke,  and 
of  just  rebuke.  It  is  not  here  that  loneliness  can  be 
cured  —  God  is  the  one  cure  for  the  lonely  heart. 
Liberty,  ambition,  beauty,  take  them  all  —  for  all  are 
worthless.  God  made  man  for  Himself,  and  for  man 
there  is  no  rest  till  he  finds  rest  in  God.  So  said  St. 
Augustine  many  centuries  ago ;  and,  in  our  own  day, 
has  not  Thomas  Carlyle,  who  like  Elijah  sought  com- 
fort in  the  wind,  and  the  earthquake,  and  the  fire,  also 
told  us  in  his  last  letters,  that  the  longer  he  lived, 
the  more  his  heart  went  out  to  the  truth  of  that  say- 
ing he  learned  as  a  boy  in  the  Scotch  Catechism  — 
"  What  is  the  chief  duty  of  man  ?  It  is  to  know 
God  and  to  enjoy  Him  forever."  A  voice  —  it  is 
only  one  who  lives  who  can  speak  —  and  Nature  is 
dead  and  dumb.  A  still  voice  —  it  comes  from  the 
calm  of  eternity  and  breathes  tranquillity  through 

136 


ELIJAH'S       LONELINESS 

the  soul.  A  small  voice  —  no  thunder  this,  but  a 
voice  demanding  silence  in  the  soul  —  the  hearing 
ear,  the  attentive  heart  — 

So  through  the  thunder  comes  a  human  voice 
Saying,  O  heart  I  made,  a  heart  beats  here, 
Face,  my  hands  fashioned,  see  it  in  myself, 
Thou  hast  no  power,  nor  may  conceive  of  mine, 
But  love  I  gave  thee,  with  myself  to  love, 
And  thou  must  love  me  who  have  died  for  thee ! 

And  at  that  voice  Elijah  goes  forth  from  the  cave, 
and  his  heart  is  healed  —  for  who  can  be  lonely  when 
God  talks  with  him,  or  call  himself  forsaken  when 
God  consoles  him? 

I  speak  especially  to  lonely  men  and  women,  to 
those  who  cannot  speak  their  deepest  thoughts,  or 
have  none  to  whom  they  dare  confide  them;  to  those 
on  whom  the  loneliness  of  great  cities  themselves 
weighs  like  a  cloud,  or  those  who  know  the  loneli- 
ness of  the  house  where  death  has  been,  or  where 
poverty  abides  —  and  I  point  you  to  the  one  cure. 
Who  can  be  lonely  if  Christ  indeed  be  in  the  world, 
a  spiritual  comforter  forevermore?  Who  can  be  un- 
comraded  when  the  hospitable  heart  of  God  stands 
open  to  him?  "  I  am  alone,  yet  not  alone,"  said 
Christ,  for  He  dwelt  in  God  and  God  in  Him.  Nor 
are  these  mere  echoes  of  vague  and  transcendental 
truths.  Upon  the  lips  of  the  sick,  of  the  life-long 
martyrs  who  know  the  pain  without  the  palm,  of  the 

137 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

men  and  women  who  lie  through  long  hours  in  soli- 
tary rooms,  with  their  life  slowly  draining  from 
them,  how  often  have  I  heard  the  words  — "  Alone, 
ah !  yes  sir  —  but  never  lonely  —  for  Christ  is  with 
me  all  the  time ! "  How  often  have  I  seen  upon  the 
faces  of  the  aged  and  the  dying  that  quiet  light,  as 
though  they  saw  a  glory  I  could  not  perceive,  and 
heard  a  voice  inaudible  to  me.  We  also  may  find 
that  joy  of  theirs,  for  we  may  hear  the  still,  small 
voice.  Lonely  life  must  always  be  for  many  of  us, 
and  to  others  of  us  whose  lives  are  crowded  now, 
lonely  hours  come  later,  when  the  buoyancy  of  im- 
pulse and  the  power  of  executing  purpose  ebbs, 
when  the  house  is  empty  and  the  children  we  have 
loved  and  toiled  for  are  scattered  through  the  earth ; 
and  for  all  of  us  there  must  needs  come  that  last 
loneliness  of  death.  But  even  then  there  is  a  voice 
that  says,  "  I  am  with  you  alway,"  and  it  has  been 
in  the  power  of  myriads  of  men  and  women  to  reply 
in  that  solemn  hour,  "  Yea  will  I  not  fear."  This 
is  our  hope,  in  God.  This  is  our  source  of  strength, 
that  we  live  unto  God,  and  not  unto  man.  This 
is  our  final  peace  and  satisfaction,  that  he  who  lives 
in  God  shares  a  fellowship  with  the  eternal,  which 
conquers  the  monotonies  and  depressions  of  time, 
and  finds  its  fruition  in  the  life  that  lasts  when  all 
earthly  things  have  passed  away.  O  tired  and  lonely 
heart,  turn  away  from  all  vain  dreams  of  cure  in 
change   of   earthly   state ;   bow   thyself   in  the   deep 

138 


ELIJAH'S       LONELINESS 


hush  of  this  hour  of  prayer,  and  you  shall  hear  the 
still,  Divine  voice  which  says,  "  My  peace  I  give  unto 
you,  not  as  the  world  gives,  give  I  unto  you.  Be  of 
good  cheer,  I  have  overcome  the  world." 


139 


THE   GREATNESS   OF  MEN   SEEN   IN 
HUMAN  PROGRESS 


VIII 

THE   GREATNESS   OF   MEN   SEEN   IN 
HUMAN  PROGRESS 

"We  have  not  wrought  any  deliverance  in  the  earth;  neither 
have  the  inhabitants  of  the  world  fallen."— Isaiah  xxvi.  18. 

THIS  passage  may  be  taken  as  a  pathetic  and 
half  ironical  statement  of  the  futility  of  human 
life.  It  is  equivalent  to  saying  "  we  expected  to  do 
great  things  with  our  life,  and  we  have  not  done 
them,"  and  this  is  a  lamentable  but  common  con- 
fession among  men.  Few  men  accomplish  the  dream 
of  their  youth,  and  in  proportion  as  these  dreams  are 
high  and  vast,  the  probability  of  accomplishment  be- 
comes more  and  more  remote.  It  is  a  catholic  ex- 
perience in  life  to  discover  that  as  we  grow  older 
hope  takes  a  more  sober  hue,  and  ambitions  moderate 
themselves;  the  conquest  that  once  seemed  so  easy 
appears  more  and  more  difficult;  the  prize  that 
seemed  within  our  grasp  eludes  us,  and  recedes 
further  from  us  with  each  narrowing  period  of  life. 
Beyond  all  this,  there  are  sudden  checks  which  hap- 
pen in  prosperous  careers ;  inexplicable  misfortunes, 
reverses,  and  defeats ;  strange,  and  as  it  seems  to  us, 

143 


THE      DIVINE      CHALLENGE 

unjust  operations  of  blind  circumstance,  which  sud- 
denly deprive  us  of  the  triumph  whinh  we  have  had 
every  reason  to  anticipate.  All  men  know  something 
of  these  experiences  before  they  are  done  with  life, 
and  they  are  the  bitterest  experiences  that  man  can 
know.  Some  take  them  with  cynical  indifference, 
some  with  philosophic  acquiescence  in  the  strange 
ways  of  destiny,  some  with  vociferous  complaint ;  but 
behind  all  our  moods  there  exists  a  poignant  sense  of 
the  futility  of  life,  a  sense  of  the  uselessness  and 
even  the  irony  of  high  purposes  in  a  world  like  this. 
It  is  this  feeling  that  finds  its  expression  in  the  say- 
ing of  this  ancient  Hebrew  poet  — "  We  have  not 
wrought  any  deliverance  in  the  earth." 

But  a  moment's  thought  will  show  you  that  much 
more  than  this  lies  behind  this  saying.  It  is  in  reality 
not  the  exposition  of  the  humiliation  of  man,  but  of 
his  undying  greatness.  For  why  should  man  expect 
to  work  any  deliverance  in  the  earth?  For  whom  is 
that  deliverance  to  be  wrought?  Whence  comes  the 
instinct  which  prompts  the  aim  of  such  deliverance? 
What  other  creature  is  there  capable  of  such  an  aspi- 
ration? We  know  of  none.  So  far  as  we  can  see, 
man  alone  knows  the  torture  of  such  a  thought,  and 
man  alone  is  capable  of  that  combined  and  corporate 
activity,  which  suggests  to  him  the  great  hope  ex- 
pressed in  the  word  deliverance.  And  this  fact  about 
man  has  been  noted  and  commented  upon  from  the 
very  first.     Three  great  allegories  stand  in  the  back- 

144 


THE      GREATNESS      OF      MEN 

ground  of  all  human  thought,  each  one  of  which  helps 
to  express  man's  sense  of  his  own  importance  in  the 
universe.  The  Eden-story  of  Genesis  represents  man 
as  becoming  as  the  gods,  by  his  knowledge  of  good 
and  evil;  that  is  to  say  by  his  pcver  of  moral  choice, 
which  makes  his  life  an  undying  struggle  in  pursuit  of 
moral  aims.  The  Greek  story  of  man  stealing  the  fire 
of  the  gods,  is  but  a  variation  of  the  same  allegory  — 
the  sublime  statement  of  man's  power  to  scale  the 
heavens.  And  again,  the  story  of  Prometheus  chained 
to  the  rock,  eternally  agonised,  but  eternally  un- 
conquered  by  his  agony,  is  the  allegory  of  man's 
power  to  resist  and  overcome  the  direst  hostility  of 
fate  and  circumstance.  Combine  these  thoughts  into 
one  truth,  and  you  have  this  result:  that  man  feels 
himself  placed  upon  the  earth  as  the  agent  of  divine 
purposes  that  go  beyond  himself.  He  feels  himself 
ordained  and  predestined  to  work  out  some  deliverance 
for  himself  and  others  —  intellectual,  moral,  spir- 
itual, and  social  deliverance ;  and  his  true  life  lies  in 
this,  and  nothing  else.  "  No  one  is  unhappy  at  not 
being  a  King  except  a  dethroned  King,"  says  Pascal, 
or  we  may  add,  who  feels  himself  to  be  capable  of 
Kingship ;  and  no  one  mourns  that  he  has  wrought  no 
deliverance  in  the  earth,  except  a  creature  who  re- 
alizes that  it  was  his  duty,  his  privilege,  and  the  very 
mission  of  his  life  to  accomplish  such  a  deliverance. 
Thus,  then,  so  far  from  being  a  melancholy  statement 
of  the  futility  of  human  life,  this  passage  is  the  very 

145 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

opposite:  it  is  the  statement  of  the  greatness  of  man 
as  seen  in  human  progress. 

First  of  all,  let  us  look  at  this  statement  of  the 
greatness  of  man.  It  is  manifest  that  if  it  be  true, 
it  is  the  most  important  of  all  statements,  because  it 
is  capable  of  the  most  far-reaching  consequences  on 
human  character  and  destiny.  Conceive  to  yourself 
two  children  born  into  the  world,  one  of  whom  is  told 
from  his  birth  that  he  is  a  creature  of  no  importance : 
the  other  of  whom  is  daily  stimulated  and  encouraged 
by  the  great  records  of  human  achievement,  and  is 
told  to  emulate  them.  Conceive  further  two  condi- 
tions of  society,  in  one  of  which  it  is  impressed  on 
men  that  human  existence  is  a  malady  and  a  misfor- 
tune, in  the  other  of  which,  the  glory,  the  joy,  and 
the  triumph  of  living  are  constantly  expressed.  Con- 
ceive yet  again,  two  religions:  the  one  teaching  the 
utter  misery  of  existence,  the  other  teaching  that 
man  is  but  a  little  lower  than  the  angels,  and  the  ex- 
press and  permanent  image  of  the  unseen  God  who 
rules  the  universe.  No  one  needs  to  be  told  what  the 
effect  these  differing  conceptions  will  be  upon  the 
human  mind.  There  are  families  which  through  long 
centuries  have  bred  heroic  and  chivalrous  men  and 
women,  because  self-reverence,  honour  and  heroism 
were  traditions  in  them.  There  are  countries  that 
have  nourished  great  races  because  from  father  to  son 
through  many  generations  great  and  dignified  ideals 
of  religion  and  moral  responsibility  have  been  handed 

146 


THE      GREATNESS      OF      MEN 

down  untarnished.  But  the  Bayard  of  perfect  cour- 
tesy and  chivalry  rarely  comes  to  growth  in  the 
foul  slums  of  great  cities  where  everything  ex- 
presses the  meanness  of  existence:  the  great  deeds 
of  human  progress  are  never  found  among  nations 
governed  by  pessimistic  ideals  of  philosophy  and  re- 
ligion. So  then  we  see  that  what  a  man  becomes 
depends  largely  on  the  estimate  he  forms  of  himself. 
The  sense  of  human  greatness  makes  men  great: 
the  sense  of  human  littleness  lessens  them,  and  at 
last  not  only  dwarfs  but  distorts  and  deforms  them. 
He  who  preaches  the  total  and  unalleviated  depravity 
of  human  nature  not  merely  utters  a  psychological 
absurdity,  but  perpetrates  a  crime  upon  society,  and 
an  outrage  on  the  cause  of  morals.  And  such  a 
dogma  receives  no  support  from  the  religion  of  the 
Bible,  which  above  all  things  states  the  dignity  of 
man,  his  greatness,  and  his  possibilities  of  growing 
greatness,  likening  him  to  God  whose  offspring  he  is, 
and  bidding  him  be  perfect  even  as  the  Father  in 
heaven  is  perfect.  The  Bible  may  be  right  or  wrong 
in  such  magnificent  assertions  —  that  is  not  in  dis- 
cussion with  us  for  the  moment  —  but  no  one  can 
doubt  that  it  does  state  from  first  to  last,  in  matchless 
splendour  of  phrase  and  with  unqualified  boldness  of 
language,  the  truth  that  man  is  great;  and  only  a 
creature  conscious  of  his  greatness  could  utter  the 
sublime  lament  that  he  had  wrought  no  deliverance  in 
the  earth. 

147 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

But  is  the  Bible  mistaken  in  these  assertions,  and 
is  this  passage  after  all  but  another  example  of  that 
exalted  egotism  of  which  man  has  always  been  ab- 
surdly capable? 

There  are  certainly  three  directions  in  which  the 
least  competent  observer  may  discover  reasons  to 
doubt  this  assertion  of  the  greatness  of  man.  Com- 
pare man  with  physical  nature,  for  example,  and  at 
first  sight  it  is  the  insignificance  and  not  the  greatness 
of  man  that  is  apparent.  But  it  is  only  at  first  sight. 
Mountains  are  great,  but  man  can  pierce  them :  seas 
are  great,  but  man  can  traverse  them:  the  storm- 
cloud  is  great,  but  man  can  pluck  from  its  bosom  the 
winged  fire  on  which  thoughts  travel  round  the  world. 
The  whole  thing  is  a  fallacy,  and  the  key  to  the 
fallacy  is  that  magnitude  is  not  greatness.  What  is 
mere  bulk  in  comparison  with  thought  and  conscious- 
ness? What  is  the  utmost  majesty  of  matter  in 
comparison  with  the  magnificence  of  that  spirit  which 
gives  to  a  man  wisdom  and  understanding?  We  feel 
the  Alps  that  tower  above  the  St.  Gothard  to  be  great, 
but  it  is  only  in  tK'e  sense  of  magnitude ;  when  we  see 
the  engine  man  has  fashioned  slowly  climbing  up  the 
mountain  side,  impelled  by  a  mere  handful  of  fire 
within  its  iron  entrails;  when  we  see  it  vanish  in  the 
bowels  of  the  earth,  and  presently  come  forth  again, 
having  threaded  with  resistless  energy  and  in  complete 
triumph  and  security,  the  very  roots  of  the  everlast- 
ing hills  —  then  wTe  feel  that  we  are  in  the  presence  of 

143 


THE      GREATNESS      OF      MEN 


quite  another  sort  of  greatness  —  a  greatness  not  of 
magnitude  but  of  power.  And  as  a  matter  of  plainest 
fact  the  physical  universe  has  no  greatness  except  as 
it  exists  in  the  human  mind.  Pascal  put  the  truth 
long  since  when  he  said,  "  If  the  universe  were  to  fall 
and  crush  me,  I  should  be  greater  than  the  universe, 
for  I  should  be  conscious  of  defeat,  and  it  would  be 
unconscious  of  victory."  It  is  easy  enough  I  grant 
to  feel  our  insignificance  as  compared  with  nature, 
but  the  feeling  is  irrational,  and  quite  illusory.  Do 
not  be  misled  by  what  poets  have  to  say  on  such  a 
theme.  Do  not  mistake  their  expression  of  a  natural 
emotion  for  the  statement  of  a  fact.  God  is  great, 
and  man  is  great,  but  elsewhere  there  is  no  greatness 
—  and  it  is  the  authentic  miracle  and  dignity  of  man 
as  a  creature  truly  God-like  that  we  most  need  to 
learn  if  we  are  to  live  in  such  a  way  as  to  work  out 
any  deliverance  upon  the  earth. 

We  may  find  reason  to  doubt  the  greatness  of  man, 
again,  when  we  compare  the  total  action  of  man  with 
his  aspiration.  The  aspiration  is  magnificent,  but 
what  of  its  fruit?  Who  attains  a  tenth  part  of  that 
which  he  desires  to  attain :  with  whom  is  the  efficiency 
of  the  accomplished  action  equal  to  the  impulse  that 
wrought  it?  Yes:  but  that  very  aspiration  itself  is  a 
sort  of  greatness.  To  will  great  things  is  only  less 
great  than  to  accomplish  them.  The  triumph  of  the 
individual  man  lies  not  only  in  that  which  he  does, 
but  in  the  great  schemes  and  hopes  which  he  desired  to 

149 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

perfect,  and  which  he  bequeaths  to  the  race,  as  the 
leaven  of  moral  energy  which  shall  work  to  its  ful- 
filment long  after  he  is  dead. 

And,  in  the  third  place,  the  greatness  of  man  ap- 
pears an  empty  phrase,  when  we  compare  man  with 
himself.  Think  of  the  ineffectual  lives  that  are  lived 
upon  the  earth.  Think  of  the  lives  distinguished  by 
no  lofty  ideals,  and  abounding  in  every  mean  variety 
of  motive.  Think  of  the  useless  or  noxious  lives  that 
spoil  society:  the  hosts  of  men  who  never  know  a 
higher  impulse  than  self-interest:  the  youths  who 
spend  the  freshness  of  their  manhood  in  idle  sport 
and  empty  pleasure:  the  women  who  have  no  view 
of  things  outside  the  cloistered  walls  of  decent  do- 
mesticity —  the  people,  for  whom  such  terms  as  so- 
ciety, the  commonwealth,  the  community,  the  nation, 
the  world,  have  not  the  least  significance,  and  for 
whom  this  passage  is  in  consequence  the  merest 
tinkling  of  a  cymbal,  and  a  meaningless  exuberance 
of  rhetoric.  But  it  is  precisely  at  this  point  that 
the  higher  message  of  the  text  discloses  itself.  Let 
the  individual  be  what  he  will,  there  is  a  general 
movement  in  society  which  makes  for  progress.  You 
may  not  seek  to  work  out  any  deliverance  in  the 
earth,  but  there  are  those  who  do  so  seek.  A  ceaseless 
impulse  runs  through  men,  coming  we  know  not 
whither,  and  it  impels  them  forward,  ever  forward. 
In  spite  of  human  apathy  laws  do  get  mended,  reforms 
are  accomplished,  programmes  once  discredited  trans- 

150 


THE      GREATNESS      OF      MEN 

form  themselves  to  facts.  Some  stand  aloof,  some 
are  swept  onward  by  the  tide :  but  the  tide  never  ebbs. 
Some  smile  in  ignorant  scorn,  as  doubtless  the  Swiss 
peasants  did,  when  the  first  company  of  Engineers 
attacked  the  frowning  bastions  of  the  St.  Gothard: 
but  the  day  comes  when  the  engine  climbs  the  heights, 
and  the  iron  rails  bind  two  separated  lands  together; 
and  then  the  dullest  know  that  something  has  hap- 
pened by  which  the  whole  world  reaps  benefit.  You 
may  not  see  the  greatness  of  man  as  he  stands  against 
the  immutable  magnificence  of  nature:  you  may  not 
see  it  in  the  individual  or  in  yourself,  but  you  do  see 
it  in  human  progress,  and  he  who  has  once  seen  that 
vision  will  not  be  content  to  die  until  he  has  contrib- 
uted his  mite  of  energy  to  the  sum  of  "  things  for- 
ever working,"  and  has  helped  to  work  some 
deliverance  in  the  earth. 

And  now  let  us  go  a  little  further  and  ask  what  is 
Progress?  Progress  is  not  wealth,  though  it  is  a 
common  assumption  that  when  you  have  proved  a 
nation  to  be  richer  by  the  passage  of  the  years  you 
have  proved  that  it  has  progressed.  Progress  is  not 
personal  success  in  life,  though  for  multitudes  that 
is  the  only  meaning  which  the  word  conveys.  There 
is  such  a  thing,  as  Carlyle  ironically  reminded  us, 
as  progress  downward.  No:  we  must  seek  a  higher 
and  completer  definition  of  the  word  —  and  we  find 
it  in  this  passage  —  Progress  is  deliverance.  When 
a  nation  is  delivered  from  ignorance  by  the  universal 

151 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

establishment  of  free  or  cheap  education  —  that  is 
progress.  When  a  nation  is  delivered  from  the 
tyranny  of  Kings,  and  the  worse  tyranny  of  landed 
and  hereditary  oligarchies  —  that  is  progress.  When 
children  are  delivered  from  the  pressure  of  inhuman 
factory  laws :  when  fair  wages  and  wise  consideration 
bind  masters  and  men  together  in  honourable  inter- 
course and  self-respecting  friendship:  when  churches 
are  delivered  from  their  theological  animosities  and 
arrogant  assumptions,  and  are  united  in  common 
effort  for  the  common  good;  when  men  of  all  ranks 
have  a  common  reverence  for  just  ideals  of  govern- 
ment, and  none  are  for  a  party  and  all  are  for  the 
state :  when  virtue  thrives,  and  vice  is  everywhere  dis- 
credited, and  the  causes  that  produce  vice  are  every- 
where diminished  by  social  service,  wise  statesmanship, 
and  loyal  love  of  good  —  that  is  progress.  And 
every  age  presents  some  special  opportunity  of 
progress.  Luther,  Cromwell,  Wesley,  Lincoln  — 
each  is  a  name  that  tells  its  own  tale  of  progress. 
Resolve  progress  into  its  elements,  and  what  is  it 
then  but  this:  a  long  series  of  deliverances  by  which 
society  grows  freer,  purer,  and  stronger:  battles  that 
begin  obscurely  in  the  convictions  of  single  men, 
and  end  by  becoming  vast  campaigns  conducted  by 
entire  nations :  struggles  to  attain,  at  first  on  the  part 
of  the  enlightened  few,  but  later  on  communicating 
their  passion  and  their  fervour  to  multitudes ;  deliver- 
ance upon  deliverance,  and  each  a  stepping  stone  by 

152 


THE      GREATNESS      OF     MEN 

which  the  world  advances  to  its  golden  age.  Yes: 
that  is  progress :  that  and  nothing  else.  To  live  thus 
is  indeed  to  prove  that  man  can  be  great.  Progress 
thus  interpreted  is  indeed  a  Divine  thing  —  the  wit- 
ness of  God's  government  as  of  man's  greatness. 
And  to  the  man  who  once  feels  the  fervour  of  this 
vision  no  disaster  can  be  so  great,  no  lamentation 
so  poignant,  as  to  be  forced  into  confession  as  he 
leaves  the  world  behind  him,  "Alas,  I  have  mis- 
interpreted the  meaning  of  life,  I  have  spent  my 
money  for  that  which  is  not  bread,  I  have  bartered 
my  life  for  that  which  satisfieth  not,  I  have  wrought 
no  deliverance  in  the  earth ! " 

And  of  all  certain  things  this  is  perhaps  the  most 
certain:  that  ideals  such  as  these  have  most  fascina- 
tion for  us  when  we  are  young,  most  power  to  move 
us,  and  are  most  likely  to  become  permanent  forces 
in  our  life.  We  believe  in  man  then :  we  believe  in  the 
regeneration  of  society,  and  the  promise  of  a  golden 
age.  You  will  find  that  in  almost  every  case  of  a 
brave  spirit  struggling  for  the  redemption  of  society 
from  some  form  of  deadly  intellectual  error,  of  po- 
litical injustice  or  religious  bondage,  the  struggle 
began  early,  in  the  days  of  youth.  Later  on  belief 
in  man  becomes  more  difficult,  and  our  sense  of  the 
obstacles  to  human  progress  is  apt  to  become  over- 
whelming. And  therefore  I  say  that  this  subject  is 
of  incomparable  and  paramount  importance  to  youth. 
Do  you  really  desire  to  work  out  any  deliverance  upon 

153 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

the  earth?  Have  you  felt  the  passion  of  the  ideal? 
Do  you  hear  the  trumpet  of  the  great  campaign  call- 
ing, and  hear  it  with  an  eager  heart?  Choose  ye, 
this  day  then,  whom  ye  will  serve,  God  or  mammon. 
Remember  now  thy  Creator,  and  the  purpose  for 
which  thou  wert  created,  in  the  days  of  thy  youth. 
Set  your  hand  to  the  plough  of  progress  while  its 
strength  is  yet  undiminished,  before  the  days  come 
when  desire  shall  fail.  The  day  of  diminished  physi- 
cal strength  comes  to  all,  but  the  day  of  diminished 
spiritual  power  need  never  come.  For  those  who 
take  life  in  a  great  spirit,  for  those  who  live  for  great 
purposes,  that  day  never  does  come:  they  go  from 
strength  to  strength:  they  advance  from  nebulous 
enthusiasm  to  settled  hope:  and  from  their  lips  the 
melancholy  cry  is  never  wrung  —  We  have  not 
wrought  any  deliverance  on  the  earth. 

And  to  this  one  other  thing  may  be  added,  that  the 
deliverance  of  man  can  only  come  by  man.  It  would 
have  been  easy  for  the  Creator  so  to  have  created  man 
that  at  a  glance  and  without  effort  he  might  have 
read  the  secret  of  the  stars,  and  the  solution  of  the 
baffling  problems  written  in  the  great  stone  book  of 
Nature.  But  that  was  not  God's  will:  and  we  our- 
selves can  see  some  reason  for  it.  We  see  that  the 
mind  of  man  has  been  indefinitely  developed  by  its 
pursuit  of  science,  and  that  had  the  difficulties  been 
less,  the  gain  to  intellectual  growth  would  have  been 
less  also.     And  in  the  same  way  God  does  not  solve 

154 


THE      GREATNESS      OF      MEN 

for  us  by  some  miraculous  interference  the  moral  and 
social  problems  of  the  earth.  We  have  to  work  out 
the  earth's  deliverance,  and  in  doing  so  we  work  out 
our  redemption.  We  have  to  do  it:  you  and  I:  the 
least  as  well  as  the  greatest  of  us.  We  can  and  do, 
each  of  us,  help  or  hinder  the  cause  of  human  prog- 
ress. We  all  know  how  coral  reefs  are  built. 
We  know  that  every  tiny  cell  in  the  growing  reef  is  a 
tiny  life  that  exhausts  itself  in  fulfilling  the  mystic 
architecture  of  the  reef,  and  when  at  last  the  com- 
pleted reef  rises  from  the  blue  abyss  of  water,  and 
becomes  an  island  on  which  the  palm  trees  spring,  and 
men  find  a  habitation  and  a  home,  it  is  the  aggregate 
effort  of  myriads  upon  myriads  of  minute  creatures 
that  triumphs  there.  So  progress  is  the  aggregation 
of  multitudinous  human  effort.  Every  life  lived 
rightly,  every  struggle  of  the  individual  after  right- 
eousness and  justice,  every  humble  effort  of  the 
humblest  man  or  woman  to  make  the  world  a  better 
world,  is  a  contribution  to  the  scheme  of  things  which 
the  Master  Architect  has  designed  as  the  crown  of 
human  existence;  and  so  it  comes  to  pass  that  the 
humblest  man  may  know  before  he  dies  that  he  has 
helped  to*  work  out  some  Divine  deliverance  on  the 
earth. 

And  so  two  lives  stand  clear  before  us,  and  two 
endings  to  life,  each  of  which  is  possible  to  each  of  us. 
There  is  the  life  of  the  man  delivered  from  himself: 
from  inordinate  ambition,  vain  pleasure,  self-ease,  and 

155 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

sensual  hope:  the  life  that  gives  itself  a  ransom  for 
many,  and  dedicates  itself  to  the  great  crusades  of 
moral  progress,  and  this  is  the  Christian  life.  Such 
a  man  knows  well  what  the  lines  mean  — 

He  only  lives  the  world's  life 
Who  hath  renounced  his  own. 

He  knows  also  what  the  saying  means  — 

Renounce  joy  for  thy  fellow's  sake 
That's  a  joy  beyond  joy. 

And  the  end  of  such  a  life  is  triumph.  All  that  he 
desired  is  not  accomplished:  but  enough  is  done  to 
assure  him  that  right  is  triumphing,  and  that  truth 
prevails :  and  so  his  final  word  is  heroic  —  it  is  the 
farewell  of  the  happy  warrior  — "  I  have  fought  the 
good  fight,  I  have  finished  my  course  with  joy." 

The  other  life  begins  and  ends  within  itself.  It 
contributes  nothing  to  the  public  good,  perhaps  it 
hinders  it.  It  is  indifferent  to  all  the  struggles  of  the 
race:  it  scorns  the  enthusiasm  of  great  men:  it  rises 
up  to  eat,  it  lies  down  to  sleep  —  it  sees  the  troops  of 
freedom  march  to  battle,  it  hears  far  off  the  trumpets 
blow,  but  it  sits  enchanted  in  its  web  of  sloth,  in  its 
grossness  of  ignoble  ease,  and  hearing  it  hears  not, 
and  seeing  it  does  not  understand.  If  at  last  it  does 
see  itself  aright,  it  wakes  only  to  discover  the  chances 
of  a  manful  life  for  ever  lost,  and  to  bewail  itself  in 
the  melancholy  cry,  "  I  have  wrought  no  deliverance 

156 


THE      GREATNESS      OF      MEN 

in  the  earth."  Those  two  lives  in  all  their  issues 
stand  before  each  of  us,  and  it  is  for  us  to  choose 
which  life  shall  be  ours.  Up,  up,  thou  eager  heart  of 
youth,  and  hear  the  voice  that  calls  thee!  Up  thou 
idle  one  and  work  while  it  is  called  to-day,  before  the 
night  cometh  when  thou  canst  not  work !  The  torn 
flag  of  freedom  floats  upon  the  gale:  the  chivalry  of 
Christ  sweeps  on  to  the  endless  Armageddon:  your 
land,  your  motherland  is  calling  you  to  help  her.  A 
thousand  schemes  of  progress  are  yet  unfulfilled,  a 
thousand  hopes  stand  disinherited,  a  thousand  thou- 
sand voices  of  the  poor  and  the  oppressed  call  for 
the  coming  of  the  champion  and  deliverer.  Up,  and 
follow  the  captain  of  salvation ;  deliver  the  oppressed, 
bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  bring  liberty  to  the  cap- 
tive; and  know  this,  that  they  that  "be  wise  shall 
shine  as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament,  and  they 
that  turn  many  to  righteousness  as  the  stars  for  ever 
and  ever." 


1ST 


THE  EXPLOITS  OF  FAITH 


IX 
THE  EXPLOITS  OF  FAITH 

"  But  the  people  that  do  know  their  God  shall  be  strong,  and 
do  exploits." — Dan.  xi.  32. 

MANY  things  about  the  Book  of  Daniel  are 
difficult  and  disputed,  but  one  thing  is  toler- 
ably clear,  and  this  gives  us  the  clue  to  the  book  — 
it  was  undoubtedly  written  for  the  encouragement 
of  Jewish  patriotism.  No  nation  was  ever  so  in- 
tensely patriotic  as  the  Jewish,  because  none  had  so 
powerful  an  historic  sense.  The  greatest  hymns  of 
the  nation  were  glowing  recapitulations  of  national 
history  —  the  promise  to  Abraham,  the  deliverance 
from  Egypt,  the  long  story  of  the  wilderness  and  the 
promised  land.  The  most  solemn  acts  of  public  wor- 
ship were  vitally  connected  with  national  history, 
and  when  the  Jew  of  to-day,  standing  an  alien  in  the 
strange  world  of  London,  begins  a  discourse  upon  the 
Feast  of  Tabernacles,  as  I  once  heard  for  myself,  with 
the  sentence  — "  Three  thousand  five  hundred  years 
ago  to-day  " —  he  strikes  the  chord  of  patriotism  that 
survives  all  the  change  of  empire  and  civilization,  and 
the  vicissitudes  of  time.     But  Jewish  patriotism  dif- 

161 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

fers  from  every  other  form  of  patriotism  in  the  fact 
that  it  is  dominated  completely  by  the  sense  of  God. 
It  recognises  not  only  its  own  part  in  history,  but 
God  working  through  all  events  His  indisputable  and 
sovereign  will.  It  reads  past,  present,  and  future, 
not  in  the  light  of  the  human  only,  but  of  the 
Divine.  And  thus  Daniel  expresses  all  that  is 
noblest  in  this  patriotism,  when  he  links  God 
with,  or  rather  enthrones  God  in  the  centre  of  all 
Jewish  heroism,  by  saying  "  The  people  that  know 
God  shall  be  strong,  and  do  exploits." 

In  all  human  history  it  would  be  hard  to  find  any 
figure  so  pathetic  and  sublime  as  the  Jew.  He  has 
been  the  prey  of  all  nations  and  their  master,  their 
spoil  and  their  spoliator.  He  has  been  flung  down 
into  an  unutterable  depth  of  infamy,  but  the  infamy 
has  constantly  recoiled  upon  his  persecutors.  His 
lot  has  been  made  bitter  by  every  species  of  wrong, 
cruelty,  and  inhumanity,  but  he  has  survived  them, 
and  like  the  great  disowned  Prophet  of  his  nation  has 
been  constantly  crucified,  only  to  rise  again  upon  the 
third  day.  In  the  utmost  darkness  he  has  found  a 
light  to  guide  him,  and  amid  the  most  terrible  of 
deprivations  a  hope  to  console  and  support  him.  He 
stands  amid  new  nations  and  civilizations  to-day,  him- 
self unchanged  —  the  wonder  and  the  enigma  of  the 
world.  He  has  survived  the  Roman  and  the  Greek, 
and  in  turn  he  may  survive  the  Teuton  and  the 
Anglo-Saxon.     If  we  can  fancy  any  human  creature 

162 


THE     EXPLOITS     OF     FAITH 

standing  on  the  ruins  of  Westminster  bridge  and  sur- 
veying the  desolation  that  was  once  called  London,  it 
will  not  be  Lord  Macaulay's  mythical  New  Zealander 
—  it  will  be  a  Jew.  In  the  presence  of  this  strange 
race  all  the  people  of  modern  Europe  are  but  children 
just  out  of  school;  for  the  Jew  had  a  literature  and 
a  philosophy,  when  our  forefathers  were  barbarians 
and  worshipped  blocks  of  wood  and  stone.  And  as 
one  surveys  that  literature  and  philosophy ;  as  one 
endeavours  to  arrive  at  the  secret  hidden  in  all  this 
long,  chequered,  pathetic  and  sublime  history,  one 
fact  continually  emerges:  the  greatest  periods  of  the 
nation  coincide  with  the  periods  when  the  sense  of 
religion  was  strongest  among  the  people:  the  most 
terrible  downfalls  and  dispersions  with  the  loss  of 
that  religious  sense.  It  is  not  merely  a  philosophic 
truth,  therefore,  which  is  stated  in  this  passage,  it  is 
an  historic  fact,  for  the  Jew  has  been  strong  and 
done  exploits  because  he  has  known  his  God. 

The  theme  which  this  passage  suggests  then  is  the 
certainty  of  God  as  the  secret  of  noble  human  achieve- 
ment. Let  me,  in  the  first  place,  make  three  pre- 
liminary observations.  The  first  is  that  the  total 
effect  of  modern  science  has  been  to  make  the  existence 
of  God  an  absolute  necessity  of  human  reason.  Fifty 
years  ago  such  a  result  was  not  anticipated,  and  at  a 
much  more  recent  date  it  was  generally  assumed  that 
the  final  effect  of  science  would  be  the  destruction  of 
religion.     But  as  the  great  conjectures  and  discov- 

163 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

eries  of  science  have  followed  one  another  in  their 
startling  sequences,  it  has  more  and  more  been  felt 
that  the  last  step  of  science  leaves  us  kneeling  before 
the  altar  which  is  dedicated  to  the  unknown  God. 
Science  has  told  us  much  about  the  functions  of  life, 
and  the  infinitely  delicate  and  wTonderful  contrivances 
by  which  these  functions  are  discharged,  but  it  has 
failed  utterly  to  tell  us  what  life  is  and  to  explain  its 
origin.  It  has  explained  the  brain,  but  it  has  not 
told  us  how  poetry,  imagination,  and  thought  come 
into  existence.  It  has  gone  through  the  house  of 
life,  unlocking  every  door,  but  before  one  door  wThich 
conceals  what  religious  men  call  the  chamber  of  the 
soul  it  has  paused,  confessing  inadequacy  and  defeat. 
It  has  traversed  every  road  of  space,  only  to  find 
itself  finally  face  to  face  with  the  inscrutable  and 
mysterious  Power  that  inhabits  eternity,  and  fills 
all  things.  Natural  Law  —  yes,  it  has  codified  that 
with  marvellous  skill  and  patience,  but  it  has  also 
been  forced  to  confess  some  Intelligence  which  is  at 
once  the  controller  and  inventor  of  natural  law.  And 
this  all  true  men  of  science  have  long  ago  admitted. 
Materialism  has  had  its  day,  and  its  power  is  already 
gone.  The  intelligent  man  can  no  longer  content 
himself  within  limits  so  narrow  and  confined.  He 
would  never  have  tried  to  do  so,  if  he  had  more 
closely  observed  the  spirit  of  his  masters,  for  Darwin 
himself  adopts  as  a  motto  for  his  famous  "  Origin  of 
Species  "  the  saying  of  Bishop  Butler,  that  the  only 

164 


THE     EXPLOITS     OF     FAITH 


"  distinct  meaning  of  the  word  natural  is  stated, 
fixed,  and  settled:  and  that  it  as  much  requires  an 
intelligent  agent  to  effect  anything  statedly,  fixedly, 
regularly  —  that  is  naturally  —  as  to  effect  it  for 
once  only- — or  supernaturally."  And  that,  I  need 
not  tell  you,  is  the  confession  of  science  that  without 
God  the  universe  is  inexplicable. 

The  second  observation  I  make  is  that  the  morality 
of  man  is  a  guarantee  of  the  moral  nature  of  God. 
Granted  a  Creator,  it  is  a  thing  incredible  that  the 
creature  should  be  greater  than  the  Creator,  for  the 
river  cannot  rise  higher  than  its  source.  Suppose 
that  at  the  beginning  of  the  Ten  Commandments  there 
were  no  preface,  declaring  that  "  God  spake  all  these 
words  and  said":  suppose  that  man  had  evolved 
entirely  out  of  his  own  conscience  the  commandments 
not  to  kill,  not  to  steal,  not  to  covet,  not  to  worship 
graven  images  and  so  forth ;  even  then  you  would  not 
be  rid  of  God.  For  if  man  is  the  creature,  and  some- 
where there  exists  a  Creator,  it  follows,  does  it  not, 
that  the  creature  cannot  reach  a  height  of  moral 
thought  impossible  to  the  Creator?  If  man  feels 
that  lying,  adultery,  and  murder  are  wrong,  we  may 
be  sure  of  it  that  there  is  some  final  and  supreme 
authority  which  also  judges  these  things  as  wrong. 
Thus  the  strongest  witness  to  a  moral  God  lies  in  the 
moral  nature  of  man.  Man  has  a  right  to  say  as 
John  Stuart  Mill  said,  "  I  will  call  no  Being  good, 
who  is  not  what  I  mean  when  I  apply  that  epithet  to 

165 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

my  fellow  creatures,  and  if  such  a  Being  can  sentence 
me  to  Hell  for  not  so  calling  him,  to  Hell  I  will  go." 
That  is  what  man  says  as  he  stands  before  the  silent 
altars  of  the  invisible:  he  says  there  what  he  has  said 
before  the  meaner  tribunals  of  earth,  "  Here  I  take 
my  stand,  I  can  do  no  other."  Whatever  is  moral  in 
man  exists  in  an  infinite  perfection  in  God:  whatever 
is  lovely,  in  a  higher  loveliness :  whatever  is  pure  in  a 
loftier  purity,  and  thus  a  man  knows  God  by  his 
knowledge  of  himself. 

The  third  observation  is,  that  the  ultimate  meaning 
and  the  very  essence  of  Christianity,  is  the  revelation 
it  gives  us  of  man's  capacity  for  God.  It  does  this 
not  so  much  by  the  statement  of  a  philosophic  truth 
as  by  a  practical  and  living  illustration  —  the  Per- 
son of  Jesus  Christ.  It  shows  us  a  man,  and  says 
that  if  God  lived  upon  this  earth,  His  life  would  be 
precisely  what  the  life  of  this  man  was.  It  shows  us 
this  man  under  every  variety  of  circumstance:  poor, 
despised,  rejected:  praised,  flattered,  hated:  coming 
into  awful  collision  with  evil,  not  only  in  the  delib- 
erate conflict  of  the  desert,  but  in  the  city,  and  in  the 
daily  conduct  of  life:  following  truth  to  His  own 
destruction,  loving  His  fellow  men  as  no  creature  ever 
loved,  consoled  under  every  difficulty  by  the  certainty 
of  an  invisible  world  of  spirit  more  real  and  enduring 
±han  the  actual  world  of  the  senses,  going  finally  to 
His  martyrdom  with  a  sense  of  triumph  —  and  it 
says,  "  Thus  God  would  have  done,  had  God  been 

166 


THE     EXPLOITS     OF     FAITH 


man  " :  and  again,  "  This  was  God,  so  revealed  that 
all  men  may  know  Him":  and  yet  again,  "Even 
thus  God  may  live  in  every  man."  The  capacity  for 
G0(j  _  the  power  of  the  human  soul  to  receive  God 
into  itself,  the  power  of  the  humblest  man  to  live 
as  God  would  have  lived,  had  God  lived  this  life  — 
that  is  the  supreme  revelation  of  Christianity,  and 
those  that  thus  know  God  shall  be  strong  and  do 
exploits. 

And  now  let  us  turn  once  more  to  this  suggestive 
saying.  If  these  things  are  true,  then  they  are  the 
greatest  of  all  truths.  It  may  occur  to  some  of  you 
to  complain  that  this  theme  is  purely  academic,  and 
to  ask  what  relation  has  abstract  truth  to  human  ac- 
tion? That  is  the  question  which  is  answered  in  this 
text.  We  all  dwell  in  two  worlds  —  the  world  of 
thought,  and  the  world  of  conduct.  No  man  dwells 
exclusively  in  either  the  one  or  the  other.  The 
thinker  is  not  only  a  thinker,  the  doer  is  not  only  a 
doer.  Both  are  engaged  in  one  supreme  occupation, 
which  is  the  conduct  of  life,  and  life  cannot  be  con- 
ducted except  upon  some  acknowledged  principles. 
In  other  words,  you  must  have  wise  and  right 
thoughts,  if  you  are  to  live  a  wise  and  right  life.  It 
is  the  merest  folly  to  say  "  It  does  not  much  matter 
what  I  think  if  I  act  rightly,"  because  action  is 
thought  in  motion,  and  what  a  man  thinks  he  will 
inevitably  do  and  be.  And  this  is  the  plain  meaning 
of  this  saying;  what  it  amounts  to  is  that  the  se- 

167 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

cret  of  all  national  life,  all  individual  life,  and  all 
human  heroism  is  found  in  religion  —  or  in  other 
words,  is  what  nations  and  men  think  about  God. 

The  secret  of  all  national  life  lies  in  national  re- 
ligion —  take  that  proposition  first.  Let  me  endeav- 
our to  put  it  not  as  an  abstract  truth,  but  by  way  of 
concrete  fact.  Suppose  a  man  should  leave  the  shores 
of  England  and  go  upon  a  pilgrimage  to  explore  the 
unknown  regions  of  the  East.  The  first  land  that  he 
would  see  would  be  the  shores  of  Spain,  and  the  rock 
of  Gibraltar,  and  there  at  once  the  problems  of  na- 
tional religion  would  salute  him.  He  would  look 
through  the  history  of  Spain,  and  he  would  discover 
that  all  the  great  episodes  of  its  history  were  dom- 
inated by  some  religious  idea.  He  would  remember 
the  reign  of  the  Moors  and  their  expulsion,  the  his- 
tory of  the  Spanish  Jews  and  their  downfall,  the 
Armada  and  its  fate,  and  he  would  need  no  one  to 
tell  him  that  the  greatest  periods  of  Spanish  history 
precisely  coincided  with  the  periods  when  the  wit- 
ness of  God  was  strongest  in  the  nation.  He  would 
touch  upon  the  shores  of  Italy,  and  he  would  remem- 
ber how  a  Jewish  fugitive  named  Paul  had  landed 
there  nineteen  centuries  ago,  had  preached  his  Gos- 
pel, and  how  that  Gospel  had  spread,  till  the  whole 
face  of  the  world  was  altered  by  it.  He  would  touch 
at  Egypt,  and  there  he  would  see  the  memorials  of 
a  splendid  and  mysterious  religion,  a  religion  that 
had  its  symbols  of  the  Trinity,  of  incarnation  and 

168 


THE     EXPLOITS     OF     FAITH 

redemption,  of  resurrection  and  immortal  life,  thou- 
sands of  years  before  Christ  was  born  in  Bethlehem. 
He  would  sail  onward  down  the  Red  Sea,  and  all  the 
history  of  Israel  would  unfold  its  panorama  to  the 
mental  eye;  he  would  come  to  India,  and  a  thousand 
stately  temples  would  witness  to  the  sense  of  religion 
which  has  dominated  the  three  hundred  millions  of 
that  land  of  wonders  through  the  long  centuries. 
Thus  the  thought  of  God  would  pursue  him  to  what- 
ever land  he  went,  and  he  would  be  unable  to  escape 
it.  At  many  points  these  various  systems  of  religion 
would  differ,  but  he  would  see  that  men  acted  as  if 
each  were  true,  and  that  each  was  the  offspring  of 
the  sense  of  God  in  man.  He  would  find  that  re- 
ligious ideas  and  hopes  had  entwined  themselves  with 
the  laws,  the  customs,  and  the  literature  of  these 
lands,  and  as  he  surveyed  the  customs  of  these  diverse 
lands  and  peoples  he  would  discover  that  the  greatest 
movements  in  each  national  life  had  been  religious 
movements.  He  would  return  to  England  and  the 
same  lesson  would  meet  him  in  his  own  history.  He 
would  read  of  Lollards,  Reformers,  Covenanters, 
Puritans ;  he  would  read  a  thousand  stories  of  heroic 
struggle  out  of  which  the  strong  tree  of  modern 
civilisation  and  liberty  drew  its  strength;  he  would 
see  vast  political  issues  constantly  springing  out  of 
the  triumph  of  religious  ideas.  And  everywhere  one 
lesson  —  the  people  who  knew  their  God  were  strong 
and  did  exploits,  and  in  proportion  to  the  power  of 

169 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

religion  over  the  national  mind,  was  the  greatness 
of  the  nation,  and  the  height  to  which  it  attained  in 
the  scale  of  nations. 

Again :  The  Secret  of  the  intellectual  life  of  men 
reveals  the  same  lesson.  For  modern  men  some  half 
a  dozen  names  stand  supreme  as  recording  the  great- 
est height  to  which  intellect  has  attained.  When  we 
have  mentioned  Newton,  Bacon,  Shakespeare,  Milton, 
Dante,  Goethe,  we  have  counted  the  brightest  stars 
in  the  firmament  of  intellect.  Turn  to  their  teach- 
ings, and  you  will  find  at  once  that  the  keynote  of 
each  life  was  faith  in  God.  Erase  God  from  the 
writings  of  Shakespeare,  Milton,  or  Dante,  and  they 
crumble  into  utter  incoherence.  Ask  Bacon  and 
Newton  on  what  their  whole  philosophy  is  based,  and 
they  will  answer  without  an  instant's  hesitation,  "  On 
God,  the  Primal  cause,  the  Primal  morality,  the 
Primal  goodness:  the  Light  of  lights,  the  Lord  of 
lords,  the  King  of  kings ! "  Turn  to  Goethe,  the 
most  pagan  of  moderns,  and  you  will  hear  him  telling 
you  in  his  old  age  that  he  trusts  that  he  shall  never 
be  so  weak  as  to  lose  his  conviction  in  personal  im- 
mortality. And  if  you  come  to  modern  times,  the 
lesson  is  the  same.  All  that  we  call  poetry  springs 
from  man's  conscious  sense  of  God.  The  human 
mind  can  soar  in  one  direction  only,  and  that  is  up- 
ward. Could  either  Tennyson  or  Browning  have 
been  the  great  poets  and  teachers  they  were,  had  they 
not  been  permeated  by  the  sense  of  God?     Could  even 

170 


THE     EXPLOITS     OF     FAITH 

a  Matthew  Arnold  have  written  as  he  did  if  there 
had  not  been  under  all  his  intellectual  negations  a 
solid  substructure  of  inherited  religious  conviction? 
No :  the  history  of  the  human  mind  is  one  long  and 
invariable  testimony  to  this  truth,  that  the  men  who 
know  their  God,  these  are  they  that  are  strong  and 
accomplish  the  magnificent  exploits  of  genius. 

Again :  turn  to  the  story  of  human  heroism  as  it  is 
written  in  the  record  both  of  men  and  nations,  and  it 
is  not  possible  to  mistake  the  enormous  influence  of 
religious  belief  on  human  conduct.     Where  is  your 
hero  who  has  not  found  the  sanction  of  his  heroism, 
and  its  vital  impulse,  in  the  sense  of  his  relation  to 
God?     The  fact  is  that  atheism  withers  the  heart, 
and  is  destructive  of  all  those  large  and  generous 
passions  that  make  the  hero.     From  the  day  when 
Stephen  looked  with  dying  eyes  in  the  blue  depths  of 
the   Syrian   sky,  and  saw  the  heavens   opened,   and 
Jesus   standing   at  the   right  hand   of   God  — from 
that  day  and  long  before  it  —  man  has  always  en- 
couraged himself  in  the  great  sacrificial  exploits  of 
heroism  by  the  conviction  that  they  are  a  duty  which 
he  owes  to  God  as  well  as  to  man :  and  owes  to  man 
simply   because   he   recognises   his    responsibility   to 
God.     We  may  say  what  we  like  about  atheism  but 
we  cannot  reason  away  the  fact  that  it  belittles  human 
nature,   and  destroys  its   capacity   for  heroism.     It 
means  something  —  it  means  far  more  than  we  sup- 
pose __  that  a  Socrates  finds  the  secret  of  courage 

171 


THE      DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

in  the  sense  that  he  obeys  a  divine  intuition  which  he 
calls  his  "  daemon,"  that  a  Joan  of  Arc  hears  "  The 
voices  "  calling  her  to  the  thorny  way  of  martyrdom 
—  that  a  Nelson  dies  thanking  God  for  his  great 
opportunity  of  doing  his  duty.  Teach  a  man  that 
there  is  a  higher  voice  than  man's  which  he  is  capable 
of  obeying  —  that  he  is  surrounded  by  an  unseen 
cloud  of  spirit  witnesses,  that  heaven  applauds  him, 
that  heaven  stretches  forth  a  starry  crown  for  him, 
and  that  his  dying  may  be  but  the  birth-throe  of  a 
larger  life  —  teach  him  that,  and  he  can  be  a  Hero. 
Teach  a  nation  that,  and  a  nation  can  be  heroic. 
Then  you  have  the  sublime  constancy  of  Vaudois 
peasants  under  every  species  of  torture,  and  you 
have  the  revolt  of  the  Netherlands  which  breathes  into 
a  little  harried  nation  such  a  spirit  of  indomitable 
courage  that  it  can  oppose,  and  finally  defeat,  the 
malice  of  the  greatest  military  power  in  Europe. 
They  were  strong,  these  Vaudois  martyrs,  these 
Piedmontese  peasants,  these  plain  Dutch  burghers  — 
they  were  strong  and  did  exploits  because  they  knew 
their  God.  They  committed  their  souls  to  God  in 
flame,  and  feared  not  what  man  could  do  unto  them. 
They  were  conscious  of  invisible  hosts  that  marched 
with  them,  and  of  an  invisible  Captain  whose  word 
like  a  trumpet  stirred  their  hearts.  They  could  die, 
but  could  not  lie,  they  could  be  tortured  and  not 
accept  the  traitor's  infamous  deliverance.  And  from 
first  to  last  in  the  long  and  splendid  record  of  human 

172 


THE     EXPLOITS     OF     FAITH 

heroism  the  story  is  the  same ;  the  heroic  exploits  of 
the  world  are  the  exploits  of  faith,  and  the  greatness 
of  man  has  always  been  nourished  by  the  sense  of  a 
Power  beyond  and  above  the  world,  whose  he  was,  and 
whom  he  served. 

Nor  need  we  turn  only  to  departed  history  for  the 
illustration  of  such  experiences  as  these.  Show  me 
the  greatest  exploits  of  modern  life,  the  most  memor- 
able episodes  of  human  action,  in  which  man  is  seen 
at  his  sublimest  and  his  noblest.  Where  are  these  to 
be  found  in  such  gray  days  as  ours,  do  you  ask? 
The  story  of  the  Salvation  Army  is  one,  the  life  of 
Livingstone  another,  the  daily  history  of  missionaries 
in  heathen  lands  and  city  slums,  a  third.  Taken  only 
as  romance  there  is  nothing  in  modern  history  more 
wonderful  than  the  story  of  General  Booth,  no 
figure  that  moves  upon  a  higher  plane  of  heroism 
than  Livingstone,  as  he  passes  into  the  abyss  of  the 
Dark  Continent  holding  aloft  his  simple  lamp  of 
truth,  no  stories  that  display  a  loftier  courage  than 
the  stories  of  modern  missionaries  —  those  daring  ad- 
venturers of  the  Soul,  who  in  a  hundred  lands  have 
held  not  their  lives  dear  unto  them  for  the  testimony 
of  Jesus.  Jesus  —  they  never  saw  Him,  but  they 
have  known  His  presence :  they  have  heard  His  word, 
they  have  found  God  in  Him,  and  this  was  the  vic- 
tory that  overcame  the  world,  even  their  faith. 
Jesus  —  He  died  nineteen  hundred  years  ago  in  the 
flesh  —  yet  is  He  alive  for  evermore,  and  they  have 

173 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

known  Him  in  the  rapture  of  a  fellowship  that  lifted 
them  far  above  either  the  scorn  or  the  fear  of  man. 
And  so  they  did  exploits,  so  they  are  doing  them 
every  day  —  men  and  women  like  ourselves  who  walk 
these  dingy  roads  of  life  with  crowns  upon  their 
heads,  marching  to  the  rhythm  of  a  loftier  music 
than  the  world  supplies  —  they  are  strong  and  do 
exploits  because  they  know  their  God. 

It  may  perhaps  be  said,  that  great  lives  are  not 
within  the  reach  of  most  of  us,  and  that,  therefore, 
it  is  vain  thus  to  speak  as  though  the  exceptional 
in  human  conduct  could  ever  be  the  rule  of  the  nor- 
mal. But  the  value  of  great  lives  is  that  they  set 
the  measure  of  what  all  lives  should  aspire  to  be,  and, 
therefore,  we  cannot  speak  too  much  of  them.  And, 
moreover,  all  greatness  is  relative,  and  the  faith  of 
Livingstone  will  make  the  life  of  any  man  noble,  even 
though  that  life  knows  no  sublime  adventure,  but 
is  lived  from  first  to  last  in  complete  obscurity,  in 
humblest  drudgery,  and  in  conditions  where  it  never 
can  attract  the  eye  of  any  single  sympathetic  or 
generous  spectator.  Or,  again,  it  may  be  said,  that 
such  spiritual  experiences  as  these  —  the  experiences 
that  make  men  great  —  do  not  happen  to  the  common 
or  the  average  man.  Ah,  but  the  common  man  also 
has  his  experiences  —  his  high  moments  when  God 
seems  real  and  near  to  him,  and  will  you  remember 
that  your  "  highest  moments  are  your  truest  mo- 
ments."    Or  it  may  be  said,  again,  that  to  know  God 

174 


THE     EXPLOITS     OF     FAITH 

is  a  thing  so  difficult  to  man,  so  rare,  so  exceptional, 
and  demands  such  a  special  temperament,  that  the 
ordinary  man  cannot  attain  to  such  convictions,  and 
can  only  say  in  sadness,  "  Such  knowledge  is  too  won- 
derful   for    me,    I    cannot    attain    unto    it."     But 
we  can  all  of  us  learn  something  of  the  Person  of 
Christ  —  and  religion  is  not  the  attainment  of  a  great 
philosophic  truth,  but  a  love  for  Christ  which  makes 
us   His   disciples.     God   is   truly   revealed   to   us    in 
Christ,  and  when  we  try  to  live  just  as  Christ  lived, 
then  we  live  as  God  Himself  has  lived  upon  the  earth, 
and  multitudes  of  quite  humble  people  have  found 
that  possible  in  every  age  by  love  and  faith,  and  by 
the  Gift  and  Power  of  the  Holy  Spirit.     And  so  you, 
young  man  going  into  the  city  every  day,  you  who 
have  no  wide  sphere  of  influence,  and  earn  your  bread 
in  some  unknown  bye-walk  of  this  great  crowded  life 
around  us  —  you  can  claim  this  text,  and  its  promise 
is  for  you.     You  can  practice  what  Jeremy  Taylor 
called   the    great    essential    of    holy    living — "The 
practice  of  the  presence  of  God."     You  can  live  as 
seeing  Him  who  is  invisible,  and  your  whole  life  will 
put  on  a  new  dignity,  and  know  a  new  and  gracious 
peace  for  that  vision.     You  will  be  strong  and  work 
exploits,  living  a  life  worth  living,  and  that  shall  be 
memorable,  if  you  will  but  open  your  heart  to  the 
knowledge  of  God,  and  live  as  ever  in  your  great 
Taskmaster's  eye.     And  amidst  much  that  is  mean  in 
life,  much  that  is  sordid,  much  that  is  commonplace, 

175 


THE      DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

you  will  live  a  life  that  is  far  from  mean,  or  sordid, 
or  commonplace,  for  3rou  will  learn  to  say  with  Russell 
Lowell  in  his  great  hymn  of  faith  — 

God  of  our  fathers,  Thou  who  wast, 

Art,  and  shall  be  — 
We  who  believe  Life's  bases  rest, 
Beyond  the  probe  of  chemic  test, 
Still,  like  our  fathers,  feel  Thee  near. 

I  do  not  grudge  you  the  pleasures  of  youth:  I  do 
not  suppose  that  you  can  each  attain  to  philosophic 
insight  and  sobriety  of  thought:  I  do  not  imagine 
that  it  is  within  the  compass  of  each  of  you  to  be 
what  the  greatest  of  men  have  been:  but  you  can 
know  your  God,  you  can  live  in  the  steady  sense  of 
God's  presence,  and  he  who  does  this,  be  his  mind 
never  so  limited  in  its  range,  and  his  life  never  so 
narrow  in  its  opportunities,  shall  be  strong,  and  shall 
do  exploits. 


176 


THE   CHANGED  FORM,  THE   ONE   CHRIST 


THE   CHANGED  FORM,  THE  ONE  CHRIST 

"  After  that  He  appeared  in  another  form  unto  two  of  them, 
as  they  walked,  and  went  into  the  country." —  Mark  xvi.  12. 

THIS  is  the  bare  record  of  one  of  the  appear- 
ances of  Christ  to  the  disciples,  fully  told  for 
us  in  the  story  of  the  journey  to  Emmaus  which 
occurs  in  the  last  chapter  of  St.  Luke's  Gospel. 
That  story  is  familiar  to  all  of  us.  Two  disciples, 
appalled  by  all  that  has  occurred  in  Jerusalem,  set 
out  in  the  eventide  for  Emmaus  convinced  that  the 
whole  propaganda  of  Christianity  is  at  an  end,  pre- 
pared to  renounce  its  hopes  and  to  take  up  once  more 
the  dreary  tasks  of  a  commonplace  and  unillumined 
life.  As  they  walk  and  are  sad  they  are  overtaken 
by  a  stranger  who  talks  with  them  in  friendliest  in- 
tercourse, accepts  their  hospitality,  and  is  finally 
known  to  them  as  Jesus  in  the  breaking  of  bread. 
Among  the  various  incidents  of  the  Resurrection  this 
stands  alone,  if  one  may  say  so.  Christ  nowhere 
appears  so  simply  human  as  in  this  episode  of  Em- 
maus. He  is  the  friend  and  comrade:  He  wears  no 
aspect  of  awe  or  majesty:  He  speaks  no  words  that 

179 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

thrill  the  heart  with  a  terror  of  the  supernatural  — 
only  warm  loving  human  words,  which  cause  the 
hearts  of  these  forlorn  men  to  burn  with  passionate 
affection.  This  is  made  strikingly  manifest  in  one 
circumstance:  the  women  who  see  Him  at  the  sepul- 
chre are  afraid,  the  disciples  in  the  upper  chamber, 
seeing  a  form  of  unearthly  majesty  outlined  on  the 
air,  are  terrified,  and  suppose  that  they  have  seen  a 
spirit.  But  here  there  is  simple  gladness  and  no  fear. 
Christ  has  appeared  to  them  in  another  form  —  not 
as  the  supernatural,  but  the  natural  Jesus:  not  as 
the  mysterious  conqueror  of  the  grave,  but  as  the 
Human  Friend  and  Leader. 

The  arresting  thought  of  this  passage  lies  in  the 
phrase  "  another  form."  Does  it  not  suggest  that 
men  see  Christ  with  different  eyes,  and  that  Chris- 
tianity itself  appears  to  men  in  differing  forms? 
Does  it  not  suggest  that  religion  allows  full  play  for 
the  varied  idiosyncrasy  of  men,  and  that  we  must 
not  expect  every  man  to  discern  religious  truth  pre- 
cisely as  we  ourselves  discern  it?  And  in  this  large 
allowance  for  the  individual  point  of*  view,  do  we  not 
find  something  thoroughly  consonant  with  the  known 
order  of  the  world,  and  ought  we  not  to  learn  a  les- 
son in  charity  which  we  all  need  to  learn?  This  is 
the  theme  which  grows  out  of  the  text,  and  it  is 
one  eminently  worth  our  careful  and  humble  investi- 
gation. 

I  say,  in  the  first  place,  that  there  is  something  in 
180 


THE         CHANGED         FORM 

this  suggestion  which  is  in  thorough  consonance  with 
the  known  order  of  the  world.  Thus,  for  example, 
it  is  the  plainest  of  all  known  facts,  that  no  two  men 
ever  see  any  feature  of  the  physical  universe  about 
us  with  quite  identic  vision.  Two  men  look  upon  a 
sunset  or  a  wide  and  distant  view,  but  each  sees  the 
splendid  pageant  differently,  and  the  kind  of  emo- 
tion which  each  feels  manifests  a  wide,  and  possibly 
an  irreconcilable,  variation.  Two  men  look  upon  a 
flower:  but  if  the  one  man  be  Wordsworth,  he  sees 
in  it  thoughts  that  lie  too  deep  for  tears :  and  if  the 
other  man  be  a  Peter  Bell, 

In  vain  thro'  every  changeful  year 
Does  nature  lead  hiin  as  before: 
A  primrose  by  the  river's  brim 
A  yellow  primrose  is  to  him, 
And  it  is  nothing  more. 

Two  poets  write  of  Nature :  but  where  one  sees  law, 
the  other  sees  love,  and  while  for  one  the  message  of 
Nature  is  sombre  and  majestic  immutability,  for  the 
other  it  is  a  kind  of  noble  sympathy.  Two  artists 
go  out  to  paint  the  same  scene,  but  each  sees  some- 
thing in  it  not  manifest  to  the  other,  and  when  each 
has  completed  his  picture  you  will  find  as  wide  a 
difference  in  the  two  pictures  as  you  find  in  the  two 
men.  These  are  illustrations  so  simple  and  common- 
place that  they  are  familiar  to  the  least  observant, 
and  they  go  to  prove  that  we  all  see  with  different 
eyes. 

181 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

Again,  love  always  sees  with  different  eyes.  For 
the  true  lover  there  is  something  in  the  beloved  that 
none  but  he  can  see  —  a  beauty  real  to  him,  but  per- 
haps wholly  hidden  from  any  one  else,  a  grace  and 
charm  which  thrill  his  heart  but  do  not  appeal  so 
fully  to  another.  This  is  one  of  the  facts  of  human 
life,  at  once  beautiful,  pathetic,  and  astonishing. 
Few  men  marry  beauty,  but  all  think  they  do:  they 
see  an  ideal  image  which  to  them  is  real,  and  years 
pass,  and  gray  hairs  come,  and  the  bloom  of  youth 
perishes,  but,  where  love  is  true  and  constant,  all 
this  havoc  is  not  so  much  as  noticed,  and  the  old  man 
beholds  in  the  helpmeet  of  his  life,  not  the  worn  and 
wasted  form  the  world  sees,  but  the  wife  of  his  youth, 
the  bride  that  linked  her  hand  with  his  before  the 
altar.  And  in  the  same  way,  what  woman  is  there 
who  does  not  see  a  loveliness  in  her  child  which  no 
one  else  sees?  It  is  not  always  that  a  child  is  beauti- 
ful, but  to  the  mother  the  plainest  child  is  never  less 
than  beautiful:  and  often  and  often,  my  heart  has 
been  moved  with  the  wonder  and  the  sacredness  of 
motherhood,  when  I  have  seen  some  woman  follow- 
ing every  movement  of  a  quite  unattractive  child  with 
wistful  and  adoring  eyes,  as  though  the  child  were 
the  very  image  of  a  perfect  beauty.  How  do  we 
account  for  these  things?  Simply  thus:  these  human 
creatures  have  appeared  to  those  who  love  them  in 
another  form,  and  love  has  transfigured  and  trans- 
formed them. 

182 


HE    CHANGED    FORM 


Take  another  fact  which  brings  us  still  nearer  to 
our  theme.  The  great  object  of  all  the  greatest  art 
of  this  world  has  been  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ: 
but  as  you  go  through  some  great  gallery  filled  with 
examples  of  Old  Masters  how  astonishing  is  the  diver- 
gence of  interpretation  which  you  find!  The  Christ 
of  Michael  Angelo,  the  Christ  of  Fra  Angelico  —  a 
whole  world  of  thought  separates  the  two.  For  one 
painter  the  dominant  image  of  Christ  is  an  image  of 
agony  and  shame,  to  him  the  Cross  is  the  overwhelm- 
ing and  awful  thing,  and  do  what  he  will  he  cannot 
tear  himself  from  the  contemplation  of  that  sublime 
majesty  of  woe,  that  speechless  sorrow  and  expiring 
meekness.  But  to  another  painter  the  vital  fact 
about  Jesus  is  not  His  death  but  His  perfect  life 
with  men :  and  so  you  have  pictures  of  Christ  asleep 
beneath  the  palm  trees  of  Egypt,  Christ  in  the  tem- 
ple with  the  money  changers,  Christ  in  the  trium- 
phant magnanimity  of  His  dealings  with  sinful  men 
and  women.  Michael  Angelo  sees  Christ  as  the 
awful  Judge  of  quick  and  dead:  Fra  Angelico  as  the 
dear  human  presence,  moving  among  men  in  simple 
friendliness,  and  "  feeding  the  faint  divine  in  human 
hearts."  Which  was  right?  you  say.  It  is  not  a 
question  of  right  or  wrong  —  each  was  right  because 
each  saw  something  that  was  true  —  each  saw  some- 
thing that  the  other  did  not  see  —  and  Christ  ap- 
peared to  each  in  a  different  form. 

It  is  but  a  step  further  to  the  perception  of  an- 
186 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

other  truth,  that  in  the  whole  history  of  Christ  and 
His  Church  there  has  always  been  this  divergence 
of  view  and  interpretation,  and  this  wide  allowance 
for  human  idiosyncrasy.  Take,  for  example, 
Christ's  revelation  of  Himself  in  His  earthly  life. 
He  speaks  as  an  ascetic  when  He  says  that  the  life 
is  more  than  meat:  He  acts  with  the  most  genial 
acceptance  of  the  uses  of  life  when  He  is  the  friend 
of  publicans  and  sinners,  and  eats  with  them.  He 
speaks  as  one  for  whom  all  the  outward  aspects  of 
the  world  are  meaningless  when  He  talks  of  the  King- 
dom of  God  as  within  men:  and  again  He  speaks  as 
one  vividly  awake  to  the  significance  of  human 
events  when  He  talks  of  the  signs  of  the  times,  and 
declares  the  things  that  make  for  the  peace  of  na- 
tions. He  speaks  as  a  non-combatant  when  He  dis- 
claims the  use  of  the  sword,  and  in  yet  another 
passage  He  proclaims  that  He  comes  to  bring  not 
peace,  but  a  sword  among  men.  He  is  at  one  mo- 
ment the  Good  Shepherd,  and  the  Lover  of  Souls: 
and  at  another  the  Judge,  before  whose  face  the 
wicked  shall  be  burned  up  as  tares  of  the  field.  He 
makes  no  effort  to  reconcile  these  varying  aspects  of 
Himself  and  His  message.  He  does  not  create,  and 
does  not  seek  to  create,  a  uniform  impression  on  the 
minds  of  men.  His  words  can  be  the  severest  of  all 
words,  and  they  can  be  the  sweetest :  to  the  hypocrite 
He  is  a  sword,  to  the  humble  a  sanctuary.  And  what 
does  it  all  mean  but  this  —  that  Christ  recognised 

184 


THE         CHANGED         FORM 

the  infinite  variations  of  human  temperament,  and 
He  appeared  in  a  different  form  to  individual  men, 
according  to  their  power  of  apprehension,  and  their 
need  of  truth?  And  if  this  be  true,  it  is  equally  true 
and  indisputable,  that  the  apostles,  who  were  en- 
trusted with  the  great  task  of  interpreting  Christ  to 
the  world,  each  saw  Christ  in  a  different  form.  It 
was  natural  that  Paul,  trained  from  childhood  in 
Rabbinical  lore,  and  a  Pharisee  of  the  Pharisees, 
should  see  Christ  chiefly  in  His  relation  to  ancient 
Jewish  types  and  ceremonies,  and  should  interpret 
all  things  in  the  light  of  His  supreme  and  atoning 
sacrifice.  But  it  was  equally  natural  to  John  that 
he  should  shed  upon  the  story  of  Christ  the  light  of 
a  sublime  mysticism,  and  that  James  should  see  it  in 
the  light  of  practical  duties.  Nor  did  the  apostles 
themselves  profess  any  perfect  coincidence  of  view. 
Peter  boldly  speaks  of  certain  things  in  Paul's  teach- 
ing which  are  hard  to  be  understood,  which  the  un- 
learned and  ungodly  wrest  or  dislocate  out  of  right 
relation,  to  their  own  destruction.  It  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  divergence  of  interpretation  began 
with  the  first  moment  of  the  organised  church,  and 
through  all  ages  these  divergencies  have  gone  on. 
Think  of  the  endless  growth  of  sects  and  churches  — 
of  Christianity  as  it  was  variously  discerned  by  the 
Crusader,  the  Monk,  and  the  Puritan:  of  the  Chris- 
tian of  the  Catacombs  with  his  one  simple  and  ex- 
quisite conception  of  the  Shepherd  with  the  lamb  on 

185 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

His  shoulder,  and  the  Christian  of  the  mediaeval  ages, 
with  his  awful  vision  of  Jesus  as  the  King  of  Glory 
to  whom  approach  was  only  possible  through  the 
softer  virtues  and  gentle  supplications  of  the  Virgin 
Mother:  think  of  religion  as  it  is  conceived  in  turn 
by  Luther,  Bunyan,  and  Wesley  —  by  the  High 
Churchman,  the  Quaker,  and  the  Methodist:  reflect 
not  merely  on  the  divergence  of  view  involved  in 
these  conceptions  of  truth,  but  on  the  intense  hostili- 
ties which  they  have  provoked,  the  bitter  feuds,  the 
actual  battles  and  cruel  martyrdoms  —  and  what 
have  you  to  say  to  it  all?  There  is  but  one  thing 
that  ought  to  be  said  —  it  is  that  Christ  appeared 
to  all  these  men  in  a  different  form.  Each  saw  what 
he  was  capable  of  seeing,  and  each  saw  something 
that  was  vitally  and  therefore  eternally  true. 

You  will  notice  further  that  all  the  troubles  of  the 
Church  have  arisen  from  the  attempt  to  enforce  unity 
and  identity  of  view.  How  significant  is  this  simple 
statement  of  the  Evangelist ;  "  He  appeared  in  an- 
other form  unto  two  of  them:  and  they  went  and  told 
it  unto  the  residue:  neither  believed  they  them."  No : 
they  were  willing  enough  to  believe  that  their  own 
revelation  of  Jesus  was  authentic  —  that  the  Jesus 
seen  in  the  upper  room,  and  the  garden  was  real  — 
but  this  pilgrim  Jesus,  talking  with  these  two  men 
on  the  road  to  Emmaus  —  this  forsooth  could  only 
be  hallucination.  What  they  had  seen  and  felt  was 
true:  what  others  had  seen  and  felt  was  not  credible: 

186 


THE         CHANGED         FORM 

so  early  do  we  find  an  illustration  of  the  saying  that 
orthodoxy  is  my  doxy,  and  heterodoxy  is  everybody 
else's  doxy.  And  this  spirit,  a  spirit  really  of  in- 
tolerant egoism  and  vanity,  has  been  at  work  among 
men  ever  since ;  and  it  has  caused  more  mischief,  more 
disruption,  more  strife  and  clamour  than  any  other 
score  of  causes  you  could  name.  It  is  a  thing  per- 
fectly right  and  even  noble  in  a  man  that  he  should 
say  — "  This  is  true,  I  pledge  my  life  upon  it ! "  but 
no  man  has  the  right  to  say  "  This  only  is  true," 
because  he  ought  to  remember  that  something  else 
may  be  true  which  it  is  not  given  him  to  discern. 
But  the  tendency  of  human  nature  is  always  to  ex- 
alt a  partial  truth  into  the  whole  truth,  and  to  label 
as  falsehood  any  form  of  truth  that  does  not  com- 
mend or  reveal  itself  to  us.  You  can  scarcely  have 
a  more  pertinent  illustration  of  this  intolerance  than 
in  the  case  of  Luther,  who  is  eager  to  tear  the  whole 
Epistle  of  St.  James  out  of  the  New  Testament,  be- 
cause he  is  incapable  of  seeing  how  it  shapes  with  the 
vital  truth  that  man  is  saved  not  by  works,  but  by 
grace  and  faith:  and  yet  Luther  himself  was  a  great 
heretic,  who  had  insisted  upon  his  right  of  private 
interpretation  of  truth  against  the  whole  force  of 
the  Roman  Church,  and  had  asserted  that  Christ  had 
appeared  to  him  in  another  form,  and  that  his  own 
vision  of  Christ  was  to  be  respected  and  allowed. 
But  the  case  is  by  no  means  unusual.  You  will  con- 
stantly find  that  the  man  who  claims  liberty  of  judg- 

187 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

ment  for  himself  is  not  prepared  to  extend  that 
liberty  to  others.  You  will  find  that  the  man  who  in 
his  youth  is  a  heretic,  contrives  to  elevate  his  heresy 
into  orthodoxy  by  the  time  the  period  of  middle  life 
is  reached,  and  that  he  who  fought  hard  for  tolerance 
in  his  manhood  has  become  as  intolerant  as  the  worst 
inquisitor  of  Rome  by  the  time  old  age  is  reached. 
If  Luther  was  capable  of  recognising  truth,  surely 
St.  James  was  not  less  capable,  and  had  an  even 
better  opportunity :  but  no :  this  is  the  whole  truth, 
says  Luther,  and  he  will  not  allow  that  Jesus  had 
appeared  to  St.  James  in  another  form.  In  no  other 
domain  than  theology  do  men  dare  to  claim  this  ar- 
rogant right  of  infallibility.  In  politics,  in  science, 
in  medicine,  all  thoughtful  men  are  willing  to  admit 
that  there  is  something  to  be  said  for  the  views  of 
their  antagonists.  They  recognise  the  falsehood  of 
extremes,  and  the  uncertainties  of  knowledge  teach 
them  diffidence  and  humility.  But  in  theology, 
which  is  the  most  subtle  and  difficult  of  all  sciences, 
depending  less  on  intellectual  deductions  than  in- 
dividual intuition  and  experience  —  here,  and  here 
alone,  men  dare  to  speak  with  the  accent  of  arrogant 
infallibility.  And  they  do  more :  they  are  determined 
to  force  their  views  upon  everybody.  They  will 
allow  nothing  for  human  idiosyncrasy.  They  libel, 
deride,  defame,  and  excommunicate  all  who  will  not 
agree  with  them.  They  carry  their  creed  upon  the 
sword  point,  and  are  prepared  to  plunge  whole  na- 

188 


THE         CHANGED         FORM 

tions  into  bloody  war  for  the  interpretation  of  a 
text,  or  even  a  phrase.  In  a  word  all  that  is  most 
disgraceful  in  ecclesiastical  history,  all  that  has  di- 
vided the  Church  and  has  dyed  the  garments  of  truth 
with  the  martyr's  blood,  may  be  traced  to  this  one 
cause:  men  will  not  believe  that  Christ  appears  to 
their  brothers  in  another  form,  and  will  not  accept 
as  truth,  any  statement  of  truth  that  differs  from 
their  own.  Neither  believed  they  them:  it  is  the  sad- 
dest sentence  in  the  whole  history  of  Christianity. 

But  from  these  general  statements  let  us  pass 
finally  to  those  particular  lessons  which  we  all  need 
to  learn. 

The  first  is  that  the  revelation  of  Christ  to  the 
individual  soul  will  always  vary  with  the  individual. 
The  greatest  miracle  in  all  the  world  is  the  miracle  of 
human  individuality:  that  in  a  hundred  million  of 
men  and  women  you  will  not  find  two  exactly  alike: 
two,  who  see  things  from  precisely  the  same  angle  of 
vision ;  two,  who  know  entire  identity  of  thought  and 
feeling.  It  is  so  that  God  has  chosen  to  make  His 
children;  each  man  a  world  in  himself,  each  with 
subtle  variations  of  character  and  temperament,  that 
distinguish  him  from  all  other  human  creatures. 
And  thus  it  happens,  that  just  as  no  two  men  see  the 
world  of  nature  as  quite  the  same,  so  religion  takes 
its  own  form  for  each.  There  is  no  one  of  us  for 
whom  all  the  doctrines  of  Christianity  are  equally 
important.     There  are  moral  and  intellectual  condi- 

189 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

tions  which  give  sharpness  and  cogency  to  certain 
truths,  and  which  invest  some  truths  with  a  reality 
which  we  do  not  feel  in  relation  to  others.  The  fear 
of  God  is  for  one  man  the  dominant  note  of  all  re- 
ligion ■ —  the  love  of  God  for  another :  and  there  are 
changes  of  experience  in  ourselves  which  make  one 
truth  the  whole  truth  to  us  in  youth,  and  quite  an- 
other truth  the  master-star  that  rules  our  maturer 
years.  Christ  appears  to  us  in  many  forms  —  and 
if  we  compare  our  thoughts  about  Christ  to-day  with 
those  fainter  and  more  obscure  perceptions  that  we 
had  twenty  years  ago,  we  can  mark  a  very  wide 
change  of  view.  And  if  we  ourselves  know  variations 
of  view,  it  is  no  cause  for  astonishment  that  other 
men  see  Christianity  in  quite  a  different  light  from 
ourselves.  The  one  divine  light  has  come  to  us  and 
them,  but  it  streams  through  a  differing  medium  — 
yet  it  is  the  same  light  of  life.  The  same  Christ  has 
appeared  to  the  scholar  in  the  upper  room  of  learn- 
ing, and  to  the  humble  disciple  on  the  road  of 
sorrow,  but  the  revelation  has  been  tempered  to  the 
need  of  each.  Those  also  are  disciples  who  do  not 
see  what  we  see:  those  also  are  Christians  who  are 
not  of  this  fold.  There  are  many  voices  of  truth, 
but  none  without  significance:  there  are  many  rev- 
elations of  Christ  to  men,  but  He  appears  in  a  differ- 
ing form. 

The  second  lesson  is  that  we  should  learn  not  to 
despise  a  revelation  of  truth  which  we  ourselves  do 

190 


THE         CHANGED         FORM 

not  need  or  comprehend.  Think,  for  example,  of  the 
great  multitude  of  souls  who  are  numbered  in  the 
Roman  Catholic  communion.  To  us  it  may  be  that 
many  of  the  predominant  dogmas  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  faith  are  quite  unintelligible  or  even  pro- 
fane. They  mean  nothing  to  us,  and  we  cannot 
fancy  ourselves,  under  any  transformation  or  com- 
pulsion of  circumstance  accepting  them.  But  it  is 
certain  that  they  mean  much  to  these  multitudes  of 
souls.  It  is  equally  certain  that  there  must  be  some 
element  of  vital  truth  behind  them  all,  or  they  had 
never  fastened  themselves  so  firmly  on  the  human 
mind  and  conscience  through  so  many  ages.  We  are 
prepared  to  admit  that  to  the  truly  pious  Catholic, 
Christ  has  appeared  in  another  form ;  but  the  charity 
we  practise  we  also  claim.  We  demand  that  we  shall 
not  be  called  heretics  by  those  whom  we  are  prepared 
to  call  Christians.  And  in  regard  to  the  High 
Churchman  we  say  the  same  thing.  His  view  of 
truth  is  not  ours:  but  we  gladly  admit  that  there  is 
truth  in  his  view  and  that  Christ  has  appeared  to  him 
in  another  form.  We  give  up  nothing  of  our  own 
convictions  in  such  an  admission:  we  ask  him  to  give 
up  none  of  his:  but  we  do  claim  that  we  also  have 
received  our  revelation  of  Christ,  and  that  we  also  are 
His  Church. 

Think  again  of  the  nobler  forms  of  pagan  piety 
still  extant  in  the  world,  and  remember  the  exceeding 
breadth  of  the  inspired  statement  that  Christ  is  the 

191 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

light  of  every  man  who  cometh  into  the  world.  The 
narrow-minded  Christian  is  puzzled  when  he  finds  so 
much  in  the  life  of  Buddha  which  closely  resembles 
the  life  of  Jesus.  He  is  still  more  puzzled  when  he 
hears  of  natural  religion  among  the  heathen,  of 
virtue,  temperance,  chastity,  self-sacrifice,  of  rev- 
erence for  sacred  things,  of  sincere  and  ardent  effort 
to  live  in  the  light  of  the  highest  known  duty.  But 
St.  Paul  found  no  difficulty  in  the  presence  of  such 
facts.  He  admitted  the  existence  of  natural  religion. 
And  both  in  the  Gospels  and  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles 
we  have  notable  examples  of  noble-minded  pagans 
who  fasted,  prayed,  and  gave  alms,  who  cultivated 
the  spiritual  life  by  such  means  as  lay  in  their  power, 
and  achieved  a  very  high  standard  of  character. 
What  can  we  say  to  these  things  but  this  —  that 
Christ  appeared  to  them  in  another  form?  For 
where  the  Spirit  of  Jesus  is,  there  is  the  revelation 
of  Jesus  —  and  the  light  that  lighteth  every  man  who 
cometh  into  this  world  is  capable  of  streaming  even 
through  a  pagan  creed,  of  shining  in  the  face  of 
Buddha,  of  manifesting  itself  to  sincere  and  honest 
souls  everywhere:  and  without  such  a  truth  to  sus- 
tain us  it  would  be  impossible  to  look  upon  the  world 
at  all,  save  with  utter  horror  and  despair. 

And  think  of  the  many  forms  of  religion  in  our 
own  midst.  So  far  as  ecclesiastical  forms  go  they 
are  irreconcilable.  Nay,  more  than  that,  we  should 
lose  by  their  complete  fusion,  for  organic  unity  is 

192 


THE    CHANGED    FORM 


not  desirable,  even  were  it  possible.  It  is  not  desira- 
ble simply  because  men  have,  and  must  needs  have, 
inherent  differences  from  one  another.  Because  we 
do  see  truth  from  different  angles  of  vision,  we  must 
needs  have  a  great  variety  of  Christian  organisations 
to  express  these  different  visions  of  truth.  When 
Christ  prayed  that  His  flock  might  be  one,  it  was 
not  organic  but  spiritual  unity  that  He  desired. 
And  that  spiritual  unity  is  attained  when  men  do  see 
the  authentic  vision  of  Christ  —  the  Church  is  one 
simply  by  virtue  of  loyalty  and  love  to  Christ  —  and 
it  matters  nothing  at  all,  except  by  way  of  consola- 
tion and  encouragement,  that  each  Christian  organ- 
isation sees  the  Saviour  in  a  different  form. 

But  this  let  us  all  know,  that  we  must  see  Christ 
or  die  in  our  sins.  Until  we  see  Him  we  are  lost  — 
lost  as  those  men  were  lost,  who  had  nothing  left  to 
live  for,  no  hope  in  earth  or  heaven,  no  care  for  any- 
thing but  to  hasten  back  to  the  old  sensual  earthly 
life,  which  they  had  left  at  the  call  of  Christ.  To 
be  carnally  minded  is  death :  to  be  spiritually  minded 
is  life  and  peace  —  and  they  were  turning  their  backs 
on  life,  they  were  going  back  to  the  ways  of  death. 
And  to  them  the  Risen  Life  spoke:  the  Christ  once 
more  became  manifest.  What  matter  how  He  came, 
and  in  what  form  —  the  thing  was,  He  did  come,  and 
they  saw  and  believed.  And  for  us  let  there  be  no 
further  talk  of  forms  —  let  us  rather  fix  our  whole 
mind  on  this  one  truth,  we  must  believe  or  die.     How 

193 


THE      DIVINE      CHALLENGE 

Christ  shall  show  Himself  to  you  I  care  not :  in  what 
form  of  Christian  organisation  you  are  likeliest  to 
find  the  authentic  vision  of  Christ,  I  will  not  even 
discuss  —  go  where  you  will,  worship  as  you  like, 
join  any  church  that  seems  most  to  meet  your  needs 
■ — but  be  content  with  nothing  less  than  this,  the 
actual  revelation  of  Christ  as  Saviour,  Atonement, 
Redeemer,  to  your  own  soul  —  for  we  must  see  Christ 
or  perish,  we  must  believe  or  die. 


194 


UTTER  KNOWLEDGE  IS  UTTER  LOVE 


XI 

UTTER  KNOWLEDGE  IS  UTTER  LOVE 

ts  For  He  knew  what  was  in  man!" — John  ii.  25. 
"Jesus  knew   from  the  beginning  who   they   were  that  be- 
lieved not,  and  who  should  betray  Him." — John  vi.  64. 

THUS  the  Evangelist  speaks  of  his  Master,  and 
it  is  a  statement  often  repeated.  Alone,  of  all 
those  who  have  taught  and  led  humanity,  Christ  had 
a  comprehensive  and  adequate  knowledge  of  men. 
He  made  no  mistakes;  before  His  luminous  search- 
ing gaze  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  were  revealed.  He 
was  betrayed,  knowing  that  He  was  betrayed ;  cruci- 
fied, foreseeing  His  crucifixion.  Nothing  in  the  final 
tragedy  surprised  Him;  He  had  long  before  re- 
hearsed every  predetermined  detail  of  His  agony. 
And  nothing  in  the  last  days  of  Christ  is  so  singu- 
lar and  striking  as  this  calm  profound  discernment. 
But  it  is  really  of  a  piece  with  all  His  life,  for  in  all 
His  dealings  with  the  world,  in  the  midst  of  a  thou- 
sand plots  and  conspiracies,  traps,  ambushes,  hypocri- 
sies, flatteries  disguising  hatred,  and  adulation 
covering  scorn,  He  was  never  deceived  as  to  the 
motives  and  springs  of  human  conduct  — "  He  knew 
what  was  in  man." 

197 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

Now  the  point  which  interests  us  most  in  such  a 
statement  is  this:  how  did  Christ  act  under  this  ter- 
rible burden  of  knowledge?  For  our  first  instinctive 
thought  is  that  such  knowledge  can  only  be  regarded 
as  a  crushing  burden.  Who  would  care  to  know 
the  intimate  secrets  of  the  lives  that  most  closely 
touch  his  own,  and  would  be  willing  that  his  own 
heart  should  be  exposed  in  all  its  nakedness  even 
to  the  most  sympathetic  eye?  We  all  of  us  walk 
through  the  world  more  or  less  tricked  out  in  dis- 
guises, and  we  are  content  that  it  should  be  so.  It 
is  not  cynicism,  but  a  profound  distrust  and  almost 
fear  of  human  nature  which  makes  us  anxious  not 
to  pry  too  deeply  into  the  lives  of  others,  for  who 
knows  what  we  might  find  there?  Would  our  friend 
be  still  our  friend  if  his  whole  heart  were  laid  bare 
to  us?  Would  love  survive  the  absolute  revelation 
of  all  that  has  made  up  the  texture  of  a  life?  All 
the  meannesses,  sins,  follies,  lusts,  vanities,  errors, 
which  from  time  to  time  have  stained  the  heart?  Has 
it  not  often  happened  that  some  man  or  woman  has 
been  driven  by  a  sudden  impulse  into  the  confession 
of  some  secret  vice  or  weakness  to  a  friend,  only  to 
discover  too  late  that  the  confession  rang  the  death- 
knell  of  friendship?  And  it  was  not  that  the  friend 
behaved  badly  either;  he  meant  to  behave  well,  he 
tried  to  do  so ;  but  inevitably  there  was  an  altered 
estimate,  and  life  was  never  the  same  again.  These 
are  the  facts  of  experience  that  make  us  think  that 

198 


UTTER  KNOWLEDGE  IS  UTTER  LOVE 

adequate,  complete,  absolute  knowledge  of  another 
would  be  a  terrible  thing,  that  for  our  own  peace  half- 
knowledge  is  better,  that  only  in  very  rare  instances 
where  the  soul  is  perfectly  lucid  and  the  temper  di- 
vinely generous  and  unselfish,  can  it  be  good  for  us 
to  know  all  that  may  be  known  about  another.  Ob- 
serve then ;  Christ  did  know  all  about  men ;  knew 
them  to  their  last  fibre ;  knew  them  to  the  last  coil  of 
being;  knew  them  to  the  innermost  secrecies  of  ex- 
perience; yet  He  reverenced  human  nature,  and  all 
His  relations  with  men  and  women  were  characterised 
of  three  great  notes :  Charity,  Sympathy,  and  Hope. 
Adequate  knowledge  of  men  taught  Christ  Char- 
ity toward  them ;  think  of  that  a  moment.  Take, 
for  example,  the  relations  of  Christ  with  His  dis- 
ciples. He  knew  what  wTas  in  such  men  as  Peter  and 
Judas.  Peter  did  not  know  himself,  but  his  Lord 
knew  him  thoroughly.  Very  early  in  their  intimacy 
Christ  had  gauged  aright  the  vanity,  pride,  and  moral 
weakness  of  Peter;  yet  never  did  Jesus  love  Peter 
more  than  in  that  moment  when  He  looked  upon  him 
with  that  look  which  broke  the  recreant  disciple's 
heart.  He  knew  what  was  in  Judas;  yet  not  once 
in  the  three  years'  ministry  is  there  a  harsh  word 
against  Judas ;  and  when  the  final  word  is  spoken 
which  dismisses  Judas  from  the  discipleship  it  is  not 
harsh,  but  ineffably  tender,  solemn,  dignified,  the  re- 
luctant verdict  of  outraged  love  that  still  loves.  And 
so  with  all  the  disciples ;  there  was  enough  of  error 

199 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

and  stupidity,  of  dull  intractable  lowness  of  thought 
and  ideal,  to  hurt  and  offend  Jesus  grievously,  yet 
He  loved  these  men  with  a  love  stronger  than  death. 
How  do  we  explain  this  constancy  of  love?  The  ex- 
planation is  simple.  Christ  saw  their  virtues  as  well 
as  their  vices,  their  qualities  as  well  as  their  defects ; 
He  saw  not  an  aspect  of  a  man,  but  the  whole  man 
as  he  was,  and  the  large  and  candid  vision  produced 
the  large  and  noble  charity  of  His  regard. 

Here  then  is  adequate  knowledge  inspiring  not  con- 
tempt but  charity,  and  is  not  the  lesson  obvious? 
The  longer  I  live  the  more  clearly  do  I  see  that  the 
harsh,  contemptuous,  uncharitable  verdicts  which  we 
so  often  pass  upon  our  fellow-creatures  are  almost 
always  caused  by  inadequate  knowledge.  There 
is  probably  not  a  single  person  of  our  acquaint- 
ance who  is  not  a  good  deal  better  than  we  suppose 
him,  as  we  should  readily  discover  if  we  knew  him 
better.  But  alas,  for  us  and  him;  we  cannot 
restrain  our  tongues  when  we  speak  of  him;  we 
love  to  mock  his  peculiarities  and  his  defects; 
we  tell  this  and  that  caustic  story  at  his  expense ;  we 
know  some  spiteful  little  anecdote  about  his  habits 
or  his  temper ;  so  we  ridicule,  or  avoid,  or  defame,  or 
misapprehend,  or  neglect  a  man  who  may  have  many 
concealed  qualities  of  character  far  finer  and  rarer 
than  any  we  ourselves  can  boast.  Some  people  seem 
to  have  a  positive  genius  for  discovering  the  worst 
side  of  worthy  men ;  they  scent  a  fault  a  mile  off, 

200 


UTTER  KNOWLEDGE  IS  UTTER  LOVE 

and  do  not  perceive  a  virtue  when  it  is  beneath  their 
nose.  There  are  faults  enough,  no  doubt,  in  human 
nature,  but  is  it  a  worthy  thing  or  a  kind  thing  to 
make  it  jour  chief  business  to  discover  and  catalogue 
them?  Nay,  is  it  a  just  thing?  Have  we  not  all 
known  moments  of  compunction  when  we  have  found 
that  we  have  wholly  misjudged  some  fellow-creature 
through  a  purposed  ignorance?  Suddenly  we  have 
come  upon  the  tragic  facts  of  his  domestic  life,  some 
secret  calamity  nobly  concealed  through  years,  some 
burden  heroically  borne,  some  grief  endured  in  self- 
respecting  reticence,  and  then  we  have  been  ashamed 
of  our  careless  jesting.  The  man  we  thought  mean 
has  had  others  depending  on  him  of  whom  we  have 
never  heard;  the  man  we  thought  rough  in  temper, 
has  gone  through  seas  of  sorrow  which  would  have 
overwhelmed  a  man  less  masterful.  O,  believe  me, 
of  all  the  forces  most  fatal  to  human  brotherhood, 
there  is  none  that  works  such  evil  as  the  gibing 
tongue,  the  spiteful  narrow  temper  that  fixes  itself 
like  a  leech  on  the  faults  of  others,  the  mean  cynical 
habit  of  judging  everyone,  not  by  the  best  in  them, 
but  by  the  worst;  and  clearly  of  all  tempers  none 
can  be  more  utterly  un-Christlike.  For  Christ 
who  knew  all  that  was  in  man,  never  failed  in  charity 
to  man ;  He  who  saw  man  most  completely,  loved  man 
most  perfectly.  And  so  I  repeat  that  the  way  to  a 
larger  charity  towards  others  is  better  knowledge 
of  them,     You  would  not  like  others  to  judge  you  by 

201 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

your  faults  alone;  judge  not  lest  ye  be  judged. 
You  would  claim  that  if  you  have  certain  faults, 
at  least  you  also  possess  some  virtues ;  what  you  be- 
lieve of  yourself  learn  to  believe  of  others  too.  I 
have  had  to  do  in  public  life  with  many  men  whom 
I  have  loved,  with  some  who  did  not  attract  me,  with 
a  few  whom  I  have  disliked;  but  I  profess  that  I 
never  yet  met  the  man  who  had  not  some  quality  in 
him  which  deserved  esteem,  and  often  enough  I  have 
learned  to  love  the  man  whom  I  began  by  disliking, 
because  I  have  come  to  know  him  better  with  the  lapse 
of  time.  The  one  sovereign  remedy  for  an  unchari- 
table temper  is  wider  knowledge  of  humanity;  for 
He  who  loved  and  honoured  mankind  most  was  He 
who  knew  the  most  about  men,  the  Saviour  who  know- 
ing the  worst,  was  never  blind  to  the  best,  and  ever 
judged  men  by  their  best  rather  than  their  worst. 

Jesus  knew  not  only  imperfect  people  but  evil  peo- 
ple; He  knew  what  was  in  them,  and  what  He  knew 
taught  Him  Sympathy  for  them.  Think  for  a  mo- 
ment of  Christ's  treatment  of  that  detested  and  for- 
lorn class  of  the  Jewish  community  known  as  harlots 
and  publicans.  There  was  no  question  about  the 
facts  of  their  lives,  they  were  notorious  and  infamous. 
The  life  of  the  one  was  then  what  it  is  now,  a  gilded 
shame,  a  smiling  misery,  a  tragic  fact,  but  all  the 
same  a  fact  not  named,  tacitly  connived  at,  even  ex- 
cused, but  never  pitied.  The  life  of  the  publican  was 
equally  notorious ;  he  was  hated  as  the  agent  of  a  ty- 

202 


UTTER  KNOWLEDGE  IS  UTTER  LOVE 

ranny,  and  he  was  treated  universally  as  an  outcast. 
If  a  Pharisee  had  been  asked  to  express  his  opinion  of 
these  people,  we  can  imagine  what  he  would  have 
said.  He  would  have  considered  them  not  worth  a 
thought ;  they  were  wholly  bad,  the  mere  offal  of  hu- 
manity. Civilisation  has  its  sewers,  and  sewers  have 
their  rats ;  they  were  the  sewer-creatures  of  humanity, 
possibly  answering  some  purpose  in  the  universal 
scheme,  but  no  more  worth  consideration  than  the 
sewer-rat.  That  was  the  Pharisee's  view,  that  is  still 
the  way  in  which  people  of  respectable  virtues  think 
of  these  miserables  of  humanity.  Everyone  knows 
that  such  creatures  exist,  but  it  is  convenient  to 
forget  their  existence.  As  for  treating  them  as  hu- 
man, as  having  qualities  not  wholly  despicable,  as 
being  amenable  to  any  generous  or  pious  impulses, 
that  is  absurd!  Here  is  the  bright  street  where  the 
children  of  virtue  walk  clothed  in  shining  raiment; 
below  is  the  sewer  and  the  rats,  and  it  is  nothing 
less  than  an  insult  to  name  the  two  in  the  same 
breath. 

How  did  Jesus  think  about  the  matter?  Why, 
with  a  daring  originality  which  we  have  wholly  failed 
to  comprehend,  even  though  we  have  read  His  words 
a  thousand  times.  Notice  one  thing  only  which  He 
says;  He  says  that  these  were  the  very  people  who 
received  Him  most  gladly,  and  showed  themselves 
most  sympathetic  to  His  spirit  and  His  message. 
If  you  will  make  careful  note  of  the  sort  of  sins 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

which  Christ  most  vehemently  denounced,  you  will 
discover  that  He  had  much  less  to  say  about  the  sin 
of  the  pubhcan  and  the  outcast,  than  the  sin  of 
the  Pharisee.  And  what  was  the  chief  sin  of  the 
Pharisee?  It  was  contempt  of  humanity,  a  con- 
tempt which  led  him  into  every  detestable  variety 
of  rancour,  spite,  and  malice.  To  hate  your  brother 
or  sister,  to  see  no  good  in  them,  to  treat  them  as 
incapable  of  good,  to  spurn  them,  to  loathe  them, 
to  trample  them  under  the  feet  of  your  own  swollen 
spiritual  pride,  that  was  the  sin  of  all  sins  to  Jesus. 
He  knew  what  was  in  man,  and  because  He  knew, 
He  discerned  in  these  despised  people,  qualities  which 
were  not  despicable;  veins  of  pure  gold  running 
through  the  clay;  fountains  of  pity  under  the  crust 
of  debasement;  generous  and  noble  tempers,  strug- 
gling through  the  opposition  of  much  that  was  ig- 
noble in  life  and  habit,  and  He  sympathised  with 
them  because  He  could  comprehend  them. 

Jesus  knew  Human  Nature  as  a  whole,  and  the 
result  of  His  knowledge  was  Faith  in  man. 

"  Faith  in  man  " ;  it  is  a  phrase  very  easy  to  utter, 
but  it  represents  a  temper  very  difficult  to  achieve  and 
maintain.  Think  of  the  ignorance,  stupidity,  and 
ingratitude  of  man;  his  indifference  to  the  labours 
of  the  wise  and  the  sacrifices  of  the  heroic;  his  ina- 
bility or  reluctance  to  follow  truth  with  ardour  or 
persistence;  his  carnal  propensities,  his  perpetual 
sacrifice   of  the   spiritual  to   the  material,   and  his 

204 


UTTER  KNOWLEDGE  IS  UTTER  LOVE 


consequent  contempt  and  even  hatred  of  those  who 
disturb  his  base  apathy  with  the  vision  of  spiritual 
progress  or  attainment ;  think  not  only  of  the  follies 
of  the  ignorant,  and  the  crimes  of  the  stupid,  but 
of  the  weaknesses  and  follies  of  the  good  themselves ; 
and  who  does  not  feel  a  certain  hopelessness  fall  upon 
him  like  a  cloud,  when  he  endeavours  to  look  into 
the  long  vista   of  the  future   of  humanity?     How 
rarely  is  it  that  the  historian,  who   has  traced  the 
vacillations  of  the  human  will,  through  the  blunders 
and   disasters   of  centuries,   comes  to  his   last   page 
with  unabated  hope?     How  rarely  is  it  that  statesmen 
are   hopeful   men;  how   much   oftener   do   they   fall 
into  acrid  cynicism,  and  flout  and  jeer  the  nation 
they  would  lead,  rather  than  hearten  and  encourage 
it?     How    often   do    even   leaders    in   religious    and 
moral  progress  lose  heart,  tacitly  admitting  that  the 
evil  of  the  world  is  too  great  for  them,  and  that  the 
folly    of    man    is    incurable.     Everyone    knows    the 
French  proverb,  so  often  quoted  by   John  Morley, 
that  he  who  would  work  for  his  fellow-men  should 
see  as  little  as  possible  of  them,  and  that  proverb 
is  the  very  essence  of  disappointed  altruism.     What 
it  expresses  really  is,  that  while  it  is  a  duty  to  work 
for  others,  yet  man  is  a  poor  creature,  and  hardly 
worth  the  trouble  you  take  over  him.     You  may  do 
some  little  good  by  your  toil,  but  never  what  you 
hoped,   designed,   or  expected,   for  human   stupidity 
will  prove  invincible  in  the  long  run.     Faith  in  man 

205 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

—  no,  it  is  a  rare  temper  even  in  religious  leaders ; 
possible  to  the  young  perhaps,  but  increasingly  diffi- 
cult to  the  old,  and  in  any  case  a  temper  not  easy 
to  maintain  through  a  lifetime  even  by  the  most 
ardent  of  men. 

Turn  once  more  to  the  story  of  Jesus,  and  you 
find  that  He  did  maintain  this  temper  of  faith  in 
man.  He  was  despised  and  rejected  of  men,  yet 
He  had  faith  in  man.  He  knew  more  than  any  other 
has  ever  known  of  the  baseness  of  the  human  heart, 
yet  He  had  faith  in  the  perfectibility  of  man.  His 
story  is  a  story  of  infinite  injustice,  betrayal,  and 
treachery;  the  noblest  of  the  sons  of  men,  yet  is  He 
treated  as  the  basest;  the  wisest,  He  becomes  the 
scorn  of  the  foolish;  the  most  magnanimous,  yet  is 
He  the  sport  of  the  meanest;  surely  if  anything 
could  shake  one's  faith  in  humanity  it  would  be  such 
a  tragedy  as  this  1  But  Jesus  died  full  of  hope 
for  men;  and  it  is  exquisitely  characteristic  of  Him 
that  His  last  act  was  to  gladden  the  soul  of  the  dying 
robber  who  hung  beside  Him  on  the  Cross.  How 
did  Jesus  maintain  this  temper?  It  was  the  result 
of  His  perfect  knowledge  of  humanity.  He  knew 
what  was  in  man,  and  He  knew  that  there  was  enough 
of  good  and  of  the  desire  of  good  even  in  the  basest 
to  encourage  hopefulness.  And  if  you  and  I  have 
grown  contemptuous  of  men,  is  it  not  because  we 
have  ceased  to  know  them,  ceased  to  put  ourselves 
in  close  contact  with  them?     Ah,  what  so  easy  as  to 

206 


UTTER  KNOWLEDGE  IS  UTTER  LOVE 

live   one's   life   apart,    to    pay   no    attention   to   the 
wonderful   spectacle    of  human   nature   as   a   whole, 
and  so   slowly  to  absorb  that  miasma  of  cynicism, 
which  is  the  inevitable  punishment  of  a  selfish  mode 
of  thought,  and  an  isolated  mode  of  life?     You  will 
always  find  that  those  who  have  most  faith  in  man 
are  those  who   come  into  closest  contact  with  man 
at  his  worst.     I  have  never  yet  met  a  City  Missionary 
or  a  Salvation  Army  Captain,  or  even  a  prison-visitor, 
whose  eyes  did  not  light  up  with  faith  in  man,  as  he 
related  some  story  of  pity  among  the.  degraded,  or 
kindness   between   the   destitute.     If   you   have   lost 
faith  in  human  nature,  and  want  to  recover  it,  the 
best  suggestion  that  I  can  make  is :  Go  down  to  some 
mission  among  the  poor  or  the  depraved,  armed  with 
kindness,  and  there  amidst  the  dust  and  ashes  of  a 
half -ruined  humanity,  you  will  discover  so  much  of 
goodness  and  greatness  still  left,  that  you  will  have 
no  doubt  about  the  inherent  greatness  of  human  na- 
ture.    You  know  something  of  the  outside  of  these 
men  —  their  rags,  their  dirt,  their  physical  debase- 
ment; learn  to  know  what  is  in  them,  and  you  will 
find  in  the  lowest,  something  to  reverence  and  respect. 
And  at  least  be  sure  of  this;  faith  in  God  is  quite 
impossible   without   faith   in   man.     It   was   not   for 
nothing  that  Christ  put  duty  to  our  neighbour,  the 
cup  of  cold  water  given  to  a  child,  the  food  to  the 
hungry,  the  clothes  to  the  naked,  in  the  forefront  of 
all  piety;  we  cannot  be  in  a  right  relation  to  God 

207 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

unless  we  are  in  right  relation  to  our  brother  man, 
for  if  we  love  not  our  brother  whom  we  have  seen, 
how  can  we  love  God  whom  we  have  not  seen  ? 

"  Thou  knowest  all  things,  thou  knowest  that  I 
love  thee,"  said  Simon  Peter,  and  so  the  last  sug- 
gestion may  be  the  Consolations  of  this  theme.  Do 
you  recall  what  were  the  bitterest  moments  of  child- 
hood? They  were  moments  when  the  heart  rankled 
with  the  sense  of  injustice,  and  what  caused  that 
sense  of  injustice?  The  conviction  that  we  were  not 
comprehended,  that  there  was  a  side  of  our  conduct 
that  we  could  not  explain,  that  our  real  motives 
were  very  different  from  our  apparent  motives.  Peter 
knew  all  that  this  meant,  but  the  perfect  knowledge 
that  Christ  had  of  him  was  his  consolation.  "  To 
know  all  is  to  forgive  all,"  is  one  of  those  ancient 
proverbs  which  man  has  had  to  learn  through  his 
own  agony.  It  is  imperfect  knowledge  we  fear 
most,  for  that  means  imperfect  understanding.  But 
where  knowledge  is  perfect  we  have  much  less  to 
fear,  for  He  who  knows  the  worst  of  us,  knows 
equally  the  best.  "  Thou  knowest  all  things,  thou 
knowest  that  I  love  thee." 

Most  men,  in  reviewing  their  lives,  have  a  feeling 
that  if  everything  were  fully  known,  if  the  nature 
of  their  temptations  were  understood,  and  the  whole 
struggle  of  their  existence,  if  they  were  judged  with 
a  comprehending  sympathy,  which  gave  credit  for 
the  best  in  them,  as  well  as  blame  for  the  worst,  things 

208 


UTTER  KNOWLEDGE  IS  UTTER  LOVE 


might  not  go  so  ill  with  them  after  all.     The  errors  in 
a  human  court  of  justice  are  always  the  errors  of  im- 
perfect knowledge.     Some  poor  creature  is  pilloried 
for  judgment,  and  it  is  all  a  question  of  evidence, 
rarely  of  motive,  never  of  tempiation.     Nor  in  the 
human  court  of  justice  is  there  any  room  for  moral 
discernment.     Morally,    the    blow   struck    in    anger, 
which  causes  death,  is  much  less  reprehensible  than  the 
cool  and  calculated  roguery  which  wrecks  a  hundred 
homes,  and  escapes  with  a  few  months'  imprisonment. 
But  human  judgment  takes  no  count  of  what  is  in  the 
man ;  if  it  did  there  is  many  a  man  arraigned  for  mur- 
der who  would  be  lightly  punished,  and  many  a  man 
arraigned  for  a  lifetime  of  cruel  devastating  fraud 
who  would  be  hanged.     Such  is  human  justice,  but 
God's  justice  is  wholly  different.     He  who  tries  us 
at  the  last  assize  will  know  what  is  in  us,  will  know 
us   intimately,   absolutely,   and   so   we   do  not   fear. 
So  at  least  David  argued  in  that  wonderful  139th 
Psalm;  the  God  who  knows  his  downsitting  and  his 
uprising,  and  all  his  thoughts,  will  show  him  more 
mercy  than  one  who  only  judged  him  from  the  out- 
side, and  partially.     Once  more  we  see  that  perfect 
knowledge  makes  not  for  despair  but  faith.     "  If  I 
am  to  be  judged  rightly,  let  me  be  judged  by  one 
who  knows  all  about  me,"  is  what  we  all  say;  he 
who  knows  all  will  treat  us  more  justly,  more  kindly 
than  he  who  knows  only  a  little,  and  that  not  the 
best  about  us.     To  such  a  judgment  we  can  resign 

209 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

ourselves  with  confidence ;  we  can  meet  our  Lord  with- 
out fear,  knowing  that  if  we  are  punished,  it  will  be 
punishment  in  which  we  ourselves  shall  acquiesce,  be- 
ing confidently  assured  that  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth 
will  do  right. 

To  say  this  perhaps  sounds  arrogance,  but  it  is 
not;  it  is  rather  the  sweet  calm  faith  of  the  little 
child  who  is  not  afraid  to  meet  his  father.  "  My 
father  will  understand  me,"  says  the  child ;  "  he 
knows  me  in  all  my  motives,  he  comprehends  my 
temperament,  he  will  make  no  errors."  "  Utter 
knowledge  is  but  utter  love/9  says  Tennyson,  and 
it  is  a  profound  truth.  If  Christ  who  knew  the  worst 
of  men  found  in  the  worst  something  that  was  worthy, 
something  that  was  loveable,  may  we  not  humbly 
trust  that  in  the  great  day  of  judgment  He  who 
knows  us  utterly  will  also  love  us  utterly?  May 
we  not  turn  aside  from  the  evil  dreams  of  harsh 
theology,  from  the  mis  judgments  and  misapprehen- 
sions of  men,  to  the  faithful  Creator  and  Father  of 
our  spirits,  saying  with  confidence,  "  Into  Thy  hands, 
I  commit  my  spirit "  ?  And  when  we  are  called  to 
stand,  as  we  so  often  are,  by  the  death-bed  of  those 
who  have  manifested  no  very  vigorous  spiritual  in- 
stincts, who  go  out  into  the  unknown  with  no  definite 
profession  of  faith,  but  taking  with  them  a  record 
of  human  faithfulness,  and  love,  and  generosity, 
marred,  no  doubt,  by  many  errors,  may  we  not  then 
find  consolation  in  the  thought  that  He  who  knows 

210 


UTTER  KNOWLEDGE  IS  UTTER  LOVE 

what  is  in  man  will  deal  with  these  imperfect  children 
far  more  wisely  and  tenderly  than  we  can  do  ?  "  Utter 
knowledge  is  but  utter  love,"  and 

"  The  love  of  God  is  broader 

Than  the  measures  of  man's  mind, 
And  the  heart  of  the  Eternal 
Is  most  wonderfully  kind." 

Because  God  knows  what  is  in  man  He  loves  man 
with  an  everlasting  love.  Because  God  is  Light,  God 
is  Love,  and  there  we  rest,  persuaded  that  what  we 
have  committed  to  Him,  He  will  keep  against  the 
eternal  day,  and  that  neither  death  nor  life  can  part 
us  from  the  love  of  God  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  our 
Lord. 


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THE  PERSONAL  FACTOR  IN  RELIGION 


XII 

THE  PERSONAL  FACTOR  IN  RELIGION 

"For  My  sake  and  the  Gospel's." — Mark  viii.  35. 

WHEN  you  speak  of  Christianity  you  are  not 
speaking  of  a  philosophic  creed,  or  an  or- 
ganised system  of  thought,  but  of  a  form  of  passion, 
uniting  Christ  with  individuals.  Judaism  is  a  com- 
posite creed,  the  work  of  many  hands ;  Christianity  is 
Christ.  The  apostolic  life  of  Paul  had  its  source 
in  one  thing,  and  one  alone,  personal  loyalty  to  a 
Master.  The  same  thing  may  be  said  of  all  the 
great  saints  and  heroes  of  Christianity  through  the 
ages;  of  men  as  far  apart  in  type  as  Xavier  and 
Wesley,  as  Francis  of  Assisi  and  Chalmers  of  New 
Guinea  —  they  speak  a  common  language  when  they 
speak  of  Christ.  They  are  not  disciples  in  the  sense 
in  which  a  student  is  the  disciple  of  a  master;  their 
whole  life  is  lived  in  and  through  Christ,  they  are 
knit  closer  to  Him  than  to  any  earthly  friend  or 
lover;  their  lives  are  lived,  their  sufferings  are  en- 
dured, their  victories  achieved,  for  Christ's  sake. 

For  Christ's  sake:  the  phrase  is  so  familiar  to  us 
that   its   freshness   is   exhausted.     We   have   said   it 

215 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

so  often  in  hymns  and  worship  that  it  has  ceased 
to  convey  any  definite  meaning  to  our  minds.  "Never- 
theless it  is  one  of  the  most  striking  phrases  in  the 
vocabulary  of  human  thought.  It  records  a  revolu- 
tion in  men's  ideas  of  religion.  It  simplifies  Chris- 
tianity, so  that  the  humblest,  and  least  subtle  of  mind, 
can  understand  it.  It  is  the  secret  of  Christ's  hold 
upon  the  human  race. 

Think  of  these  two  things  to  begin  with :  — 
First,  that  this  phrase  "  For  My  sake  "  constitutes 
a  motive  for  action  which  is  quite  peculiar  to  Chris- 
tianity. No  other  great  religious  teacher  has  ever 
told  the  world  to  do  right  for  his  sake ;  but  for  right's 
sake  and  truth's  sake.  Neither  Buddha  nor  Mo- 
hammed ever  made  the  reception  of  the  truths  they 
taught  contingent  upon  personal  loyalty  to  them- 
selves ;  they  regarded  their  doctrine  as  potent  enough 
to  demand  belief  apart  from  all  personal  emotions. 
Neither  did  Paul,  even  when  pleading  with  his  con- 
verts with  an  almost  womanly  tenderness  of  feeling, 
ever  beg  them  to  pursue  any  given  line  of  conduct 
for  his  sake ;  the  most  he  dared  to  say  was  that  he  in 
Christ's  stead  besought  them  to  be  reconciled  to  God. 
Alone,  among  all  known  religions,  Christianity  cen- 
tres in  a  person,  makes  its  chief  motive  love  to  a  per- 
son, and  counts  even  the  proper  apprehension  of 
truth  as  of  less  importance  than  warm  and  loyal 
passion  to  that  person.     The  keynote  of  Christianity 

216 


PERSONAL      FACTOR      IN      RELIGION 

is  thus  loyalty  to  Christ,  and  its  two  great  watch- 
words are,  "Lovest  thou  Me?  "  "  FoUow  Me" 

A  second  outstanding  characteristic  of  Christianity 
is,  that  pure  and  lofty  as  it  is  in  point  of  ethics,  yet 
those  ethics  would  be  relatively  unimpressive  without 
the  character  and  story  of  Christ  Himself.  His  pre- 
cepts are  exquisite,  but  they  gain  all  their  real  force 
from  His  own  life.  Others  have  told  us  to  love  our 
enemies,  but  it  is  only  when  we  stand  at  the  Cross  and 
hear  Him  blessing  a  thief,  and  praying  for  His 
murderers  that  we  comprehend  what  He  meant. 
Others  have  taught  us  pity  for  the  sinful,  but  the 
true  scope  of  such  a  precept  is  only  felt  when  we 
see  Him  eating  and  drinking  with  sinners,  deliberately 
seeking  their  company,  and  saying  to  a  guilt-laden 
woman,  "  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee,  go  in  peace." 
And  as  it  is  with  His  precepts  so  it  is  with  His 
doctrines.  The  benignant  fatherhood  of  God  becomes 
intelligible  when  we  mark  the  perfect  benignity  of 
Christ's  own  character;  and  His  great  doctrine  of 
immortality  and  life  eternal  passes  from  speculation 
into  fact  when  we  stand  beside  His  own  empty  sepul- 
chre. Thus  we  may  say  that  had  Christ  only  given 
us  what  the  man  of  genius  gives  us,  the  fine  fruit 
of  His  mind,  His  teachings  would  have  had  little 
or  no  power  to  move  the  world,  and  none  whatever  to 
create   a   revolution   in   human   thought.     It   is   the 

217 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

spectacle  of  His  own  life  and  example  that  has  fas- 
cinated the  mind  of  men ;  and  He  Himself  was  well 
aware  that  the  true  and  moving  revelation  He  brought 
the  world,  was  not  so  much  what  He  taught,  as  what 
He  was.  In  the  phrase  "  For  my  sake  "  He  makes 
love  to  Himself  the  one  supreme  and  abiding  motive 
of  all  Christian  life,  duty,  and  service. 

Now  let  me  try  to  amplify  and  explain  what  these 
statements  mean.  Men  are  continually  seeking,  with 
insatiable  curiosity,  to  understand  what  Christianity 
is,  and  what  it  really  means  to  be  a  Christian.  Books 
are  written  on  it,  sermons  preached,  lectures  delivered 
in  universities  and  seats  of  culture,  and  so  extraordi- 
nary is  the  interest  excited  by  this  theme,  that  full 
as  the  world  is  with  books  about  Christianity,  every 
year  adds  a  new  library  to  Christian  literature;  and 
often  as  the  theme  has  been  discussed,  no  Sabbath 
dawns,  when  millions  of  men  and  women  are  not 
gathered  together  for  a  fresh  discussion  of  the 
theme.  Is  it  possible  to  compress  all  this  mass  of 
thought  into  some  brief,  clear,  axiomatic  form? 
Can  I  give  to  any  man  who  asks  the  plain  question 
"  What  is  it  to  be  a  Christian  ?  "  a  plain  answer,  an 
answer  clear,  convincing,  and  decisive?  I  think  I 
can.  To  be  a  Christian  is  to  be  brought  into  such 
personal  relation  with  Christ  that  henceforth  the 
soul  is  obedient  to  His  authority,  and  all  truth  is 
seen  through  Christ,  and  the  whole  life  is  lived,  in 

218 


PERSONAL      FACTOR      IN      RELIGION 

all  its  acts  and  tempers,  for  Christ's  sake.  It  is  not 
a  question  of  creed,  dogmas,  proofs,  and  evidences, 
but  of  personal  relationship  to  Christ,  and  personal 
loyalty  to  Him.  The  personal  factor  is  the  con- 
trolling factor  in  the  whole  problem.  Christianity 
is  nothing  more  or  less  than  the  story  of  the  human 
soul  in  its  personal  relationship  to  Christ;  that  is 
the  centre,  from  which  that  wide  line  of  circumference 
is  drawn  which  includes  literatures,  philosophies,  his- 
tories, and  the  long  struggle  of  causes  and  nations. 

Think,  for  example,  of  the  Personal  Factor  in 
Christ's  own  Earthly  Ministry. 

The  narrative  of  the  earliest  acts  of  that  ministry 
is  contained  in  the  first  chapter  of  St.  John's  Gospel, 
and  it  concerns  itself  with  a  group  of  five  men  in 
their  personal  relationship  to  Christ. 

Christ  appears  full  of  grace  and  truth  before  the 
startled  and  delighted  eyes  of  John  the  Baptist,  of 
Andrew,  of  Peter,  of  Philip  and  Nathaniel,  and  ex- 
cept in  the  case  of  Nathaniel  not  a  word  is  spoken 
in  exposition  of  Christ's  claims  or  authority. 
Neither  is  there  a  single  word  spoken  to  either  of 
the  five  men  on  any  one  of  those  distinctive  doctrines 
which  were  to  compose  Christ's  gospel.  That  gospel 
lies,  as  yet,  folded  in  the  silence  of  Christ's  heart. 
No  one  of  these  men  can  by  any  possibility  suspect 
what  the  outlines  of  that  Gospel  are  to  be.  Yet 
what  happens?  Christ  no  sooner  appears  than  their 
hearts  cleave  to  Him.     John  hails  Him  as  the  Lamb 

219 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

of  God;  Andrew  and  Peter  leave  their  fishing  nets 
instantly  when  He  says  "  Follow  Me  " ;  Philip  makes 
haste  to  claim  for  Christ  a  Messiahship  of  which  He 
Himself  has  said  nothing,  and  Nathaniel  exclaims, 
"  Thou  art  the  Son  of  God,  Thou  art  the  King  of 
Israel."  Not  a  word  spoken  by  Christ,  not  a  dogma 
nor  a  doctrine  defined,  not  a  word  as  to  what  kind  of 
service  it  is  to  which  He  pledges  these  men,  yet  they 
follow  Him  instinctively,  and  why?  Because  they 
feel  that  Christ  is  the  Gospel.  Nothing  He  can  say 
to  them  can  affect  them  so  much  as  what  He  is. 
They  love  Him  as  only  noble  souls  can  love;  with  a 
passion  that  forgets  and  extinguishes  self;  with  a 
swift  and  beautiful  loyalty ;  and  thus  the  love  of 
Christ  constrains  them  henceforth  to  live  only  in 
the  presence  of  Christ  and  for  His  sake. 

Try  and  recall  for  a  moment  the  scenes  of  Christ's 
active  ministry,  and  you  will  find  that  there  is  one 
characteristic  which  runs  through  all  —  His  ministry 
is  constantly  addressed  to  individuals.  There  are  ser- 
mons on  the  Mount  and  beside  the  Lake ;  great  public 
utterances  such  as  you  might  expect  from  a  religious 
reformer;  but  always  something  else,  personal  con- 
tact with  individuals.  Great  multitudes  followed 
Him  in  admiration,  but  His  converts,  the  men  and 
women  who  are  to  spread  His  doctrine  and  form  the 
nucleus  of  His  Church,  are  the  results  of  His  personal 
touch  on  individual  lives.  Mary  Magdalene  is  won 
not  by  sermons  on  the  Mount,  but  by  the  gracious 

%20 


PERSONAL      FACTOR      IN      RELIGION 

tender  touch  of  Christ,  which  delivered  her  disordered 
mind  from  the  cloud  of  madness,  her  haunted  soul 
from  the  spectres  of  despair.  The  woman  who  is  a 
sinner  is  drawn  to  Christ,  not  by  the  publication  of 
His  doctrines,  which  would  have  moved  her  not  at  all ; 
but  by  the  reverence  and  awe  and  penitent  love  He 
awoke  in  her  by  His  mere  presence,  and  this  moved 
her  to  the  depths.  It  is  the  same  all  through  the 
ministry  of  Christ,  from  first  to  last;  with  Nicode- 
mus,  with  His  disciples,  with  the  dying  thief;  it  is 
always  Christ  Himself,  not  the  things  He  says,  that 
overwhelms  the  soul ;  it  is  the  power  of  Llis  own  per- 
sonality acting  on  the  souls  of  men,  that  draws  them 
to  Himself  and  changes  the  current  of  their  lives. 

Notice  also  that  in  His  ministry  among  men, 
Christ  constantly  uses  the  language  of  the  affections. 
In  the  whole  life  of  Christ,  and  in  His  whole  ministry, 
what  do  you  find  the  most  distinctive  thing,  the 
unique  thing,  its  feature,  its  characteristic?  I  find 
that  it  is  the  place  He  gives  to  love.  It  is  of  the 
love  of  God  He  speaks  when  He  names  God;  it  is 
loving-kindness  in  humble  men  He  praises  —  the  hun- 
gry fed,  the  sick  comforted,  the  prisoner  visited,  the 
cup  of  cold  water  given  to  a  child;  these  are  the 
superlative  acts  of  life  by  which  character  is  revealed, 
by  which  eternal  destinies  are  determined.  It  is  the 
power  of  love  in  the  heart  of  woman  which  He  dis- 
tinguishes as  woman's  divinest  gift.  He  defends 
Mary   from   the   attack   of   Judas,  because   her   ex- 

221 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

travagance  is  the  beautiful  extravagance  of  love; 
He  forgives  a  woman,  whose  sins  are  many,  because 
she  loves  much.  And  it  is  the  language  of  the  af- 
fections which  He  uses  when  He  pleads  with  His 
followers,  "  Will  ye  also  go  away  ?  " —  when  He  says 
to  Peter  "  Lovest  thou  me  ?  " —  and  when  He  makes 
Himself  the  universal  object  of  all  love  by  saying, 
"  Inasmuch  as  men  do  kindnesses  to  those  who  are 
poor  as  He  was  poor,  and  hungry  and  thirsty,  and  in 
need,  as  He  was  in  need,  they  do  it  unto  Him." 

"  For  love  He  wrought, 
Who  sowed  with  springing  bloom  our  mortal  graves. 
Only  with  hatred  and  its  ills  He  fought, 
Claiming  for  seraphs  those  who  toiled  as  slaves. 
For  love  He  wrought.     Be  faith  or  clear  or  dim, 
He  waits  in  love  for  all  who  follow  Him." 

For  my  sake.  Is  it  not  the  most  intimate  lan- 
guage of  the  affections  that  Christ  uses  here?  "  For 
my  sake  ":  the  very  phrase  is  sanctified  by  all  the 
mystery  and  sweetness  of  human  love.  "  For  my 
sake  ":  it  is  the  appeal  of  the  dying  mother  to  her 
child,  of  parted  lovers  between  whom  oceans  are  about 
to  roll,  of  martyred  patriots,  surrendering  their  mem- 
ory and  their  cause  to  their  disciples.  No  man  has 
begun  to  live  in  any  true  or  noble  sense  until  he  has 
begun  to  live  for  the  sake  of  others.  That  is  the 
supreme  and  simple  truth  of  Christianity.  Men  must 
be  lifted  out  of  self-love,  and  they  can  only  achieve 


PERSONAL   FACTOR   IN   RELIGION 

that  deliverance  through  love  for  another.  There- 
fore Christ  speaks  as  a  lover,  and  all  that  He  can 
do  for  the  souls  of  men  is  done  when  men  love  Him, 
and  begin  to  live  for  His  sake.  This  is  the  unique 
achievement  of  Christ.  He  is  loved  as  no  other  was 
ever  loved.  This  is  what  excited  the  wonder  of  Na- 
poleon when  he  said,  "  Cassar,  Charlemagne  and  I 
have  founded  empires  on  force;  they  have  perished; 
Jesus  Christ  founded  an  empire  on  love,  and  at  this 
hour  millions  would  die  for  Him."  Here  is  the 
personal  factor  in  Christianity,  which  so  colours  and 
controls  everything,  that  all  else  is  unimportant. 
Christ  makes  His  appeal,  "  Live  for  my  sake,"  and 
men  through  all  the  ages  answer,  "  For  me  to  live  is 
Christ,  to  die  is  gain." 

Pass  from  the  ministry  of  Christ,  to  that  ministry 
which  by  common  consent  is  next  to  Christ's  the  most 
wonderful  in  human  history,  the  ministry  of  Paul. 
What  do  you  find  here  that  is  extraordinary?  Once 
more  the  personal  factor,  the  personal  relation  be- 
tween Paul  and  Jesus,  colouring  every  thought  of  the 
apostle  and  governing  all  his  life. 

Paul  had  a  very  wide  theology,  and  some  of  you 
may  say,  a  very  difficult  and  abtruse  theology, 
ranging  through  many  subtleties  of  the  intellect, 
and  penetrating  the  profoundest  secrets  of  time  and 
eternity.  True,  but  you  will  find  that  wide  as  Paul's 
theology  was,  he  had  a  very  narrow  and  simple  creed. 
He  believed  not  more  than  two  or  three  things,  but 

223 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

he  believed  them  intensely.  The  mission  of  his  life 
was  to  go  on  repeating  these  two  or  three  things  till 
they  were  impressed  upon  the  consciousness  of  man- 
kind. Before  the  Jewish  Sanhedrin  and  Roman  gov- 
ernors, in  the  conclave  of  the  Apostles,  and  in  the 
presence  of  the  sceptical  philosophers  of  Athens;  in 
his  familiar  correspondence  with  his  friends ;  in  his 
controversial  treatises,  in  his  conversation  with  ac- 
quaintances made  in  travel,  with  soldiers  who  had 
charge  of  him,  and  officers  of  the  empire  sent  to  in- 
vestigate his  case,  he  continually  affirms  the  two  or 
three  things  that  made  the  creed  on  which  his  life 
was  built.  What  were  these  things?  That  he  had 
seen  Christ  in  the  spirit,  and  had  heard  the  voice  of 
Christ,  which  he  had  never  heard  in  the  flesh.  That 
he  knew  Christ  was  risen  from  the  dead,  for  he  had 
felt  the  power  of  His  resurrection.  That  his  own 
life  was  changed  in  every  fibre,  and  that  he  was  con- 
verted, by  the  contact  of  Christ  with  his  own  soul. 
There  is  Paul's  creed,  the  reality  of  contact  with 
Christ.  How  little  the  teachings  of  Christ,  consid- 
ered only  as  teachings,  counted  with  Paul,  you  may 
judge  by  the  strange  fact  that  he  does  not  quote  a 
single  parable  of  Christ's,  or  refer  to  a  single  inci- 
dent of  the  Galilean  ministry,  nor  contribute  any- 
thing whatever  to  our  knowledge  of  His  earthly  life. 
Why  was  this?  Because  Paul's  relation  to  Christ 
was  not  in  the  least  like  the  ordinary  relations  of  the 
scholar  to  the   intellectual  master,   the  scholar  who 

224 


PERSONAL   FACTOR   IN   RELIGION 

expounds  his  master's  philosophy,  or  re-defines  his 
teaching.  No,  it  is  not  the  tradition  of  Christ's 
earthly  life  that  shapes  the  life  of  Paul,  it  is  daily, 
hourly  contact  with  Christ.  He  has  been  lifted  out 
of  himself  by  a  wave  of  love  that  has  brought  him 
to  the  bosom  of  Christ.  He  has  found  the  love  and 
life  of  Christ  flowing  into  his  own  life  and  trans- 
figuring it.  He  not  only  believes  what  Christ  has 
said  in  beatitude  and  parable,  he  knows  Whom  he  has 
believed.  And  that  is  conversion  —  contact  with 
Christ.  It  is  not  belief  in  something  Christ  has 
taught  or  done;  it  is  surrender  to  Christ.  It  is  the 
giving  of  the  heart  to  Christ  —  that  old  evangelistic 
phrase  which  no  change  of  thought  can  render  ob- 
solete —  an  act  performed  in  the  realm  of  the  affec- 
tions, a  surrender  to  love,  so  that  henceforth  you  live, 
not  for  self  but  for  Christ,  and  for  His  sake. 

That  old  evangelistic  theology  had  many  phrases 
which  were  truer  than  we  think,  and  as  I  grow  older 
I  begin  to  realise  how  true  they  are.  It  spoke  of 
coming  to  Jesus.  It  spoke  of  appropriating  faith. 
It  taught  men  to  sing  — 

"  I  the  chief  of  sinners  am, 
But  Jesus  died  for  me/' 

thus  connecting  my  sin,  done  but  yesterday,  with  the 
death  of  Jesus,  suffered  centuries  ago  upon  the  Tree. 
There  is  not  one  of  these  phrases  that  is  not  true, 

225 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

when  you  remember  that  the  source  of  Christianity 
is  personal  contact  with  Christ.  You  do  appropriate 
all  the  grace  of  Christ  to  yourself  when  you  let  your 
heart  go  out  to  Him  in  love.  You  do  make  His 
death  a  death  for  you,  when  you  feel  that  He  is  not 
only  the  world's  Saviour,  but  your  Saviour.  The 
Christ  whom  Paul  knew,  not  by  discussions  about 
His  person,  or  memories  of  His  teachings,  but  by 
personal  contact,  spirit  with  spirit,  soul  to  soul,  in 
the  rapture  of  love  and  self -surrender,  may  be  known 
to  you  by  the  same  means.  Try  the  method,  and 
see  if  it  be  not  true.  Let  your  heart  choose  Christ 
at  this  moment,  and  see  if  the  answering  love  of 
Christ  does  not  thrill  you  through  and  through. 
Centuries  do  not  alter  the  fact  of  this  experience; 
still  Christ  says  "  Love  me,  live  for  my  sake,"  and 
still  men  rise  from  their  knees  to  sing  in  a  flood  of 
happy  tears  — 

"  'Tis  done,  the  great  transaction's  done. 
I  am  my  Lord's,  and  He  is  mine, 
He  called  me  and  I  followed  on, 

Charmed  to  confess  the  Voice  Divine." 

And  then  lastly  I  want  you  to  realise  the  truth 
to  which  I  have  already  referred,  that  in  knowing 
Christ  by  personal  contact,  you  for  the  first  time  know 
what  His  doctrine  really  means.  Living  for  Christ's 
sake,  you  begin  to  see  all  life  in  and  through  Christ. 
This  truth  is  admirably  put  by  a  man  who  cannot  be 

226 


PERSONAL      FACTOR      IN      RELIGION 

counted  a  friend  of  Christianity,  Mr.  Grant  Allen, 
in  his  "  Evolution  of  the  Idea  of  God,"  when  he  says 
that  it  was  not  the  doctrine  of  a  Resurrection  that 
converted  Western  Europe,  but  the  fact  that  the 
Apostles  of  Christ  said,  "  We  tell  you  a  tale  of  a 
real  life,  and  recent:  we  present  you  with  a  specimen 
of  actual  resurrection."  What  can  convince  me  of 
the  Resurrection  of  Christ?  Nothing  but  vital  con- 
tact with  Christ,  when  I  am  trying  to  live  in  the  daily 
love  of  Christ,  and  for  His  sake.  And  thus  living 
for  Christ's  sake  all  life  is  seen  through  Christ.  I 
measure  my  daily  duty  by  His  spirit  of  duty,  I 
interpret  my  disciplines  by  His  Cross,  I  see  my  grave 
in  the  light  of  His  illumined  sepulchre.  Living  for 
Christ's  sake,  I  more  and  more  perceive  that  His 
life  outlines  mine,  that  which  He  knew  of  the  Divine 
presence  I  may  know,  His  way  of  thinking  is  my  way, 
and  His  final  victory  over  death  will  be  my  victory 
too. 

Everyone  knows  something  of  the  beautiful  and 
wonderful  work  of  the  Solar  spectrum.  Upon  the 
spectrum  are  reproduced  various  lines,  which  until 
1860  were  a  puzzle  to  the  astronomer.  Then  a 
discovery  was  made  which  cast  a  new  light  upon  the 
universe,  for  it  was  found  that  these  lines  stood  for 
certain  elements  in  the  sun,  which  exists  also  on  the 
earth.  Think  of  it,  upon  this  tiny  film,  the  sun, 
millions  of  miles  as  it  is  away,  writes  the  record  of  its 
nature,  and  behold  that  nature  is  composed  of  the 

227 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

same  elements  as  this  little  earth.  Even  so  Christ 
mirrors  Himself  upon  the  believing  heart.  He  is  far 
away,  in  the  realms  of  risen  life,  yet  His  life  cor- 
responds with  ours.  What  were  truths  and  duties, 
disciplines  and  victories  for  Him,  are  the  same  for 
us,  and  all  our  life  lies  explained  in  His,  all  our  life 
is  illumined  l>y  the  light  of  His  most  perfect  life. 
The  moment  contact  is  established  with  Christ  we  see 
our  life  through  Christ's  life,  and  our  life  shines 
glorious  in  the  light  of  His. 

The  personal  factor  in  religion ;  practically  for  you 
and  me  no  other  factor  counts.  A  thousand  poets 
have  written  on  love,  but  you  will  learn  more  of  love  in 
the  kiss  of  a  little  child,  in  the  pressure  of  a  kind 
hand,  in  the  soft  glance  of  loyal  and  tender  eyes, 
than  you  will  in  reading  all  the  exquisite  and  all  the 
true  things  written  about  love  since  the  world  began. 
It  is  so  with  Christ.  Christianity  is  meaningless  to 
you  till  you  feel  the  contact  of  the  soul  with  Christ : 

The  love  of  Jesus,  what  it  is, 
None  but  His  loved  ones  know. 

In  one  of  the  greatest  spiritual  confessions  of  our 
generation,  "  The  Story  of  an  African  Varm"  Olive 
Schreiner  pours  out  her  heart  in  this  exceeding  bitter 
cry. 

"  Why  am  I  alone,  so  hard,  so  cold?  It  is  eating 
my  soul  to  the  core,  self,  self,  self!  I  cannot  bear 
this  life!     I  cannot  breathe!     I  cannot  live!     Will 

228 


PERSONAL      FACTOR      IN      RELIGION 

nothing  free   me  from   myself?     I  want  something 
great  and  pure  to  lift  me  to  itself." 

Christ  is  the  answer  to  that  cry.  Love  for  Him 
is  the  great  and  pure  passion  that  lifts  us  out  of 
self.  All  that  bitter  loneliness  which  tortured  the 
soul  of  the  brilliant  writer,  would  have  passed  away 
forever,  had  she  known  how  to  kneel  at  the  Cross 
of  Christ.  To  give  the  heart  to  Christ,  to  surrender 
the  whole  soul  to  Him,  to  come  to  Jesus,  to  live  for 
Christ's  sake  —  once  more  I  say  the  old  Evangelistic 
phrases  ring  true,  they  rest  upon  the  experience  of 
millions,  and  may  be  true  to  you  also,  if  you  will  act 
upon  them.  "  Come  unto  Me,  and  I  will  give  you 
rest," —  rest  in  deliverance  from  self,  rest  in  sur- 
render to  God  —  so  Christ  speaks  still,  so  He  speaks 
to  you,  all  ye  who  are  weary  and  heavy-laden,  and 
may  God  give  you  grace  to  find  the  peace  and  joy 
of  the  life  surrendered  to  your  Saviour,  and  hence- 
forth lived  in  His  service,,  and  for  His  sake. 


THE  POWER  OF  PRINCIPLE 


XIII 

THE  POWER  OF  PRINCIPLE 

"  How  then  can  I  do  this  great  wickedness,  and  sin  against 
God." — Gen.  xxxix.  9. 

THOSE  who  write  and  speak  especially  to  youth 
have  often  drawn  up  interesting  categories  of 
its  qualities  and  characteristics  —  its  energy,  sin- 
cerity, buoyancy,  unbounded  aspiration,  and  so  forth ; 
they  have  not  so  often  observed  that  youth  is  pecu- 
liarly the  period  of  temptation.  The  man  who  has 
attained  to  middle  age,  if  he  be  not  altogether  a  fool, 
has  usually  attained  to  some  degree  of  sober  wisdom, 
but  sobriety  is  not  among  the  gifts  of  youth.  Rather 
youth  is  the  period  of  inebriation,  of  excess,  of  ex- 
travagance, when  nothing  is  seen  in  its  real  outlines, 
or  apprehended  in  its  true  nature.  The  first  full 
draught  of  life  which  a  man  drinks  is  not  only  ex- 
hilarating —  it  is  intoxicating.  It  is  bliss  to  be  alive ; 
all  the  world  shines  transfigured  through  a  golden 
mist,  and  is  as  a  mirage  in  which  the  very  pits  of 
Sodom  are  magically  made  to  take  the  outline  of  the 
Delectable  Mountains  themselves.  It  is  small  wonder 
that  in  this  general  ferment  and  tumult  of  the  na- 
ture, youth  should  find  itself  allured  by  a  thousand 

233 


THE      DIVINE      CHALLENGE 

temptations.  To  taste,  to  see,  to  handle,  to  know 
what  life  is;  to  experience  the  things  of  which  men 
have  written  and  talked ;  to  drink  the  cup  of  pleasure 
to  the  dregs;  to  enjoy,  before  the  evil  days  come 
when  the  tired  and  satiated  heart  says,  "  I  have  no 
pleasure  in  them  " ;  to  plunge  deep  into  the  stinging 
tide  of  all  human  experience  —  all  this  appeals  irre- 
sistibly to  the  frank  paganism  of  youth.  And  thus 
it  is  that  youth,  in  its  first  delirium  of  living  often 
rushes  straight  towards  ruin,  and  before  it  has  had 
time  to  count  the  cost,  knows  itself  bankrupt  of  those 
qualities  which  give  life  its  true  serenity  and  triumph. 
Now  that  which  is  true  of  all  youth,  was  no  doubt 
true  of  Joseph.  In  that  far-gone  period  when  he 
lived,  moral  restraint  was  much  weaker  than  it  is 
to-day,  and  the  mere  pagan  joy  of  life  proportion- 
ately stronger.  Consider  what  it  meant  for  such  a 
youth  to  be  suddenly  introduced  to  the  corrupting  and 
luxurious  life  of  Egypt.  From  the  simple  patri- 
archal life  of  the  plains  he  was  violently  separated  by 
a  series  of  bitter  vicissitudes.  He  was  a  peasant  of 
genius,  suddenly  made  a  citizen  of  a  complex  civili- 
sation ;  and  such  an  instance  as  that  of  Robert  Burns 
may  serve  to  remind  us  of  the  grave  perils  of  the 
position.  If  he  had  ever  sighed  for  a  larger  life 
than  that  of  the  agriculturist  and  cattle  breeder, 
now  he  had  it.  If  he  had  ever  felt  his  veins  athirst 
for  the  pleasures  of  life,  now  that  thirst  might  be 
easily  gratified.     He  was  among  a  people  who  loved 

234 


THE     POWER     OF     PRINCIPLE 

pleasure,  and  who  knew  little  of  sin.  The  standards 
by  which  they  measured  life  were  wholly  different 
from  those  to  which  he  had  been  accustomed.  Prob- 
ably there  was  not  one  among  his  acquaintances  who 
would  not  have  laughed  at  his  scruples,  and  have 
jeeringly  told  him  to  do  in  Egypt  as  Egypt  did. 
If  you  would  discover  the  place  in  which  life  is  most 
corrupt,  morals  most  easy,  the  desires  of  the  flesh 
least  restrained,  you  would  go  first  to  the  precincts 
of  a  Court  where  luxury,  idleness,  and  the  sense  of 
being  freed  from  the  ordinary  social  restrictions 
are  nearly  always  found,  and  it  was  in  such  an  at- 
mosphere Joseph  lived.  The  peasant  of  genius  in 
the  house  of  Potiphar  —  conceive  the  situation.  How 
easy  to  snatch  at  forbidden  pleasures,  which  not  one 
of  his  acquaintances  would  have  resisted  or  would 
have  even  thought  it  politic  to. resist.  But  Joseph 
did  resist,  and  as  the  sequel  showed  his  whole  future 
life  and  the  existence  of  his  people,  depended  on  his 
resistance.  Of  course  he  did  not  know  that;  no 
man  is  able  to  foresee  that  he  is  making  history. 
But  one  thing  he  did  know  —  he  knew  what  right  and 
wrong  were,  and  he  knew  that  he  was  accountable 
to  God  for  all  his  actions.  His  first  instinctive  words 
are,  "  How  can  I  do  this  great  wickedness,  and  sin 
against  God?  "  And  when  we  come  to  weigh  these 
words,  and  measure  the  whole  situation,  what  we 
see  is  this :  that  the  whole  secret  of  Joseph's  triumph 
was  that  he  was  a  youth  of  principle.     That  was 

235 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

what  saved  him  in  the  trying  hour;  that  is  what 
can  alone  save  us  in  the  moments  of  great  tempta- 
tion —  he  had  principles  and  he  was  faithful  to  them. 

First  of  all,  What  then  is  Principle?  Is  it  some- 
thing elemental,  fundamental,  which  is  taken  for 
granted  in  all  reasoning,  and  thus  becomes  a  standard 
of  thought  or  conduct.  In  every  science  you  have 
principles,  and  until  these  are  accepted  science  can 
teach  you  nothing.  In  every  art  you  have  princi- 
ples, and  until  you  have  mastered  these,  accepted 
these,  and  throned  them  as  unalterable,  no  knowl- 
edge of  art  is  possible.  Euclid  gives  you  the  prin- 
ciples of  mathematics  before  he  proposes  the  problem, 
for  it  is  by  the  application  of  the  principles  that  the 
problems  are  to  be  solved.  You  may  have  plenty 
of  aspiration  for  art  or  science,  but  the  first  ele- 
ment of  progress  is  not  aspiration,  but  obedience. 
So  in  the  affairs  of  the  soul,  there  are  fundamental 
and  axiomatic  things  which  we  must  admit  before 
we  can  give  any  right  shape  to  conduct;  for  re- 
ligion is  not  primarily  an  aspiration,  but  a  sub- 
mission or  an  obedience.  Joseph  had  a  sure  grasp 
on  two  principles;  that  he  was  accountable  to  God 
for  his  actions,  and  that  certain  actions  were  wicked ; 
and  in  the  most  tremendous  hour  of  moral  crisis 
which  he  knew  he  was  saved  by  these  principles. 

We  sometimes  say  of  a  man,  "  He  is  an  unprin- 
cipled man";  what  is  it  we  mean?  We  mean  that 
he  is  unscrupulous.     There  is  hardly  a  more  damn- 

236 


THE      POWER      OF      PRINCIPLE 

ing  epithet  that  can  be  applied  to  a  human  creature. 
Such  a  man  proves  himself  in  every  relation  of  life 
utterly  untrustworthy  and  unreliable.  If  he  be  a 
business  man  there  is  no  knavery  which  he  will  not 
practise  on  occasion ;  if  he  sign  an  agreement  to-day 
he  will  set  to  work  to-morrow  to  repudiate  it,  or 
make  it  nugatory ;  if  you  trust  him,  he  betrays  you ; 
if  you  confide  your  interests  to  him  he  will  sacrifice 
them  the  moment  self-interest  interferes ;  and  not 
because  he  deliberately  means  to  be  a  knave  or  a 
thief  but  simply  because  there  is  no  fundamental 
honesty  about  him,  which  gives  a  governing  principle 
to  conduct.  If  he  be  a  workman,  he  works  only 
when  the  master's  eye  is  upon  him;  he  puts  honest 
work  only  where  it  can  be  seen,  and  goes  home 
whistling  from  his  knavish  work,  utterly  careless  of 
the  fact  that  he  has  built  a  house  or  laid  a  drain  in 
such  a  way  that  the  lives  of  men  and  women  must 
be  sacrificed  to  his  purposed  incompetency.  If  he 
be  a  politician  he  learns  to  lie  so  glibly  that  he 
hardly  knows  when  he  lies;  he  uses  any  weapon  that 
comes  to  his  hand  without  a  thought  of  its  nature; 
he  drifts  into  wars  which  a  moment  of  firm  thought 
might  have  prevented,  and  in  the  long  run  he  does 
his  country  more  lasting  damage  than  could  be 
wrought  by  the  wildest  anarchist,  or  the  most  revolu- 
tionary of  honest  demagogues.  And  when  you  come 
to  the  social  aspects  of  life,  the  wrongs  wrought  by 
lack   of  principle  are   even   more   agonising  though 

237 


THE      DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

perhaps  more  circumscribed  in  their  effects.  George 
Eliot  has  sketched  us  such  a  man  with  inimitable 
skill  in  the  Tito  Melema  of  her  great  novel,  "  Ro- 
mola."  She  takes  pains  to  show  us  that  Tito  was 
not,  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  term,  a  bad  man. 
He  has  many  engaging  and  quite  fascinating  qualities. 
He  is  brilliant,  joyous,  refined,  fond  of  giving 
pleasure  to  others,  and  eager  to  make  himself  friendly 
and  serviceable.  But  in  his  heart  he  has  no  prin- 
ciple, no  love  of  virtue,  no  respect  for  duty.  The 
moment  his  personal  interests  are  menaced  he  turns 
to  adamant.  To  save  himself  he  will  sacrifice  any- 
one; at  the  root  of  all  his  gaiety  and  fascinating 
manners,  there  is  an  utterly  unscrupulous  self-in- 
terest. He  is  no  libertine,  but  he  will  ruthlessly 
wreck  the  life  of  the  little  blue-eyed  contadina  who 
pleases  him  with  her  child-like  ways.  He  is  not  a 
brute ;  yet  he  will  cast  off  his  benefactor  —  with  real 
regret  —  the  moment  his  presence  becomes  inconven- 
ient. He  does  not  wish  to  betray  or  injure  any- 
one; he  would  much  rather  not  do  it;  but  he  has  no 
real  principle  of  honour  or  of  virtue  to  deter  him 
from  the  course  that  seems  pleasant  or  expedient. 
And  so  the  man  goes  through  life  wrecking  the  peace 
of  all  who  know  him,  and  finally  is  wrecked  himself 
—  and  why?  For  want  of  principle.  Had  he  but 
known  how  to  say,  "  This  is  wickedness  and  sin 
against  God  " —  had  he  learned  to  set  his  daily  con- 
duct in  the  light  of  God's  purity,  and  said,  "  How 


THE      POWER      OF      PRINCIPLE 

can  I  sin  against  God?  "  all  would  have  been  differ- 
ent, and  both  for  himself  and  others  infinite  sorrow 
and  infinite  tragedy  might  have  been  averted. 

We  see,  then,  what  Principle  means;  it  means  a 
moral  and  spiritual  standard  which  is  sincerely  ac- 
cepted and  rigidly  obeyed.  It  gives  us  a  power  of 
moral  discrimination,  and  enables  us  to  say,  "  This 
may  be  a  pleasure,  but  it  is  also  wickedness."  It 
gives  us  an  awe-struck  sense  of  responsibility  to  the 
unseen  God,  and  enables  us  to  say,  "  How  can  I 
sin  against  God?  "  And  it  becomes  clear  at  once 
that  such  a  principle  working  in  a  man's  heart,  such 
a  moral  standard  obediently  accepted,  must  necessarily 
alter  and  exalt  the  whole  nature  of  a  man's  conduct. 
The  business  man  knows  then  that  the  eye  of  God  is 
on  his  ledger,  and  the  workman  makes  his  work  good 
because  he  would  feel  himself  dishonoured  if  he  did 
not.  The  statesman  in  hours  of  difficulty  consoles 
himself  that  certain  things  are  inevitably  and  eternally 
right ;  that  it  is  better  to  fail  in  the  right  than  to  suc- 
ceed in  the  wrong;  and  that  while  expediency  is 
man's  wisdom,  righteousness  is  God's.  The  ordinary 
man  in  all  the  social  tests  of  life  is  lifted  beyond  the 
reach  of  temptations  which  offer  momentary  pleasures 
and  advantages,  because  he  sees  life  in  a  nobler  per- 
spective and  has  learned  the  inner  joy  of  a  virtue  that 
is  unstained,  and  an  integrity  which  is  uncorrupted. 
To  such  men  right  and  wrong  are  no  sounding 
phrases,  they  are  the  only  abiding  realities.     Eternity 

239 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

and  the  thought  of  eternal  things,  becomes  to  them 
at  once  inspiration,  restraint,  and  impulse.  And  so 
when  they  are  suddenly  brought  face  to  face  with 
some  great  temptation ;  when  the  Venus-vision  of 
the  flesh  flashes  on  their  startled  eyes,  when  the  sweet 
corrupt  odours  of  forbidden  pleasure  assail  their 
senses,  when  the  snare  is  spread  for  the  feet,  and  the 
bait  held  at  their  lips  —  they  have  a  power  by  which 
they  conquer,  they  have  a  spell  before  which  the 
Venus-vision  melts  into  thin  air  —  they  are  able  to 
fall  back  upon  their  sense  of  right,  their  sen^e  of 
God,  and  to  say,  "  How  can  I  do  this  wickedness, 
and  sin  against  God?  "  And  they  cannot  do  it;  they 
simply  can  not;  because  a  higher  power  holds  them 
in  its  grasp,  and  a  nobler  vision  gives  them  instant 
mastery  over  the  base  and  the  corrupting  vision. 

So  much,  perhaps,  we  accept  and  acknowledge; 
but  now  notice  another  thing,  viz. :  That  it  is  only 
by  moral  principle  that  men  conquer  in  such  hours 
as  these.  It  is  as  impossible  to  acquire  sudden  virtue 
as  sudden  heroism.  Behind  every  human  act  there 
lies  a  history,  and  the  act  is  the  fruit  of  the  history. 
Grapes  do  not  grow  upon  thorns,  nor  figs  on  thistles, 
said  Jesus  —  by  which  He  meant  that  character  rules 
conduct.  Men  do  not  always  remember  this.  They 
suppose  that  if  a  great  temptation  came  to  them  they 
would  find  some  sort  of  magical  power  to  resist  it. 
But  a  man  never  finds  in  his  heart  the  flower  he  has 
not  planted  there ;  he  never  finds  the  grape  upon  the 

240 


THE      POWER      OF      PRINCIPLE 

thorn,  or  the  fig  upon  the  thistle.  All  principle 
means  a  slow  accretion  of  will,  thought  and  convic- 
tion; the  gradual  emergence  from  the  fermenting 
chaos  of  a  man's  nature  of  the  solid  and  impregnable 
elements  on  which  he  can  build  tind  rest;  and  in  the 
great  crises  of  temptation  it  is  only  by  force  of 
principle  that  we  can  be  saved. 

We  see  how  true  this  is  when  we  remember  that 
all  great  temptations  are  sudden.  On  that  memor- 
able day  when  Joseph  faced  the  great  temptation  of 
his  life,  he  faced  it  without  warning.  There  was 
not  a  hint  in  that  fair  Egyptian  dawn  that  anything 
tragic  was  about  to  happen.  No  fellow-servant  or 
officer  of  the  household  had  breathed  a  word  to  put 
him  on  his  guard.  He  rose  as  he  had  done  on  a 
hundred  other  mornings;  rejoicing  in  his  strength, 
full  of  the  gladness  of  life,  warmed  and  nerved  by 
ambitious  dreams,  already  seeing  his  life  successful; 
he  rose,  and  prayed  to  the  God  of  Israel,  and  went 
about  his  duties  in  a  quiet  glow  of  health  and  energy. 
If  he  had  known  what  was  about  to  happen  he  might 
have  braced  himself  for  the  hour,  and  have  called 
up  all  the  resources  of  his  prudence  and  his  will. 
But  life  gives  very  few  of  us  the  chance  of  invent- 
ing a  deliberate  strategy  against  a  coming  battle. 
We  are  taken  unawares ;  we  must  fight  as  we  stand. 
The  days  of  destiny  come,  but  they  cast  no  shadow 
before.  A  man  goes  out  in  the  morning  to  the  city 
utterly  ignorant  that  before  night  the  great  battle 

241 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

of  his  life  will  be  fought.  He  goes  out  honest  — 
he  may  come  back  a  thief;  he  goes  out  virtuous 
—  he  may  come  back  with  a  stain  upon  him  that  all 
his  after  life  may  not  obliterate.  The  subtle  antag- 
onist with  whom  we  have  to  deal  gives  us  no  time 
for  preparation ;  he  delights  in  surprises ;  the  bolt 
falls  out  of  the  blue  sky,  the  arrow  flies  through 
the  clearest  noon.  Is  it  not  plain  then  that  to  be 
prepared  at  all  for  temptation,  we  must  be  always 
prepared?  And  how  are  we  to  be  prepared  but  by 
that  daily,  hourly  attitude  of  mind  which  makes 
virtue  dear  to  us  and  God  real?  And  what  does  this 
mean  but  that  it  is  principle  alone  that  can  save  us 
in  the  sudden  shock?  If  Joseph  had  had  to  begin  to 
be  religious  on  that  fateful  morning,  nothing  could 
have  saved  him ;  it  was  because  he  was  religious,  be- 
cause he  had  lived  his  young  life  in  stainless  virtue, 
that  he  had  resources  to  fall  back  on  now,  and  stood 
fast  in  the  evil  day. 

There  is  perhaps  nothing  in  life  more  tragic  than 
these  sudden  and  overwhelming  moral  defeats  which 
happen  to  men.  It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that 
often  enough  a  moment  decides  a  destiny.  A  man 
rises  without  the  least  purpose  of  wrong-doing  in 
his  thoughts ;  he  has  lived  in  prudent  virtue  all  his 
days;  yet  by  nightfall  he  has  done  that  which  makes 
him  loathe  himself.  We  who  look  upon  the  amazing, 
the  tragic  spectacle,  cannot  understand  it.  We  hear 
the  growing  whisper  that  couples  his  name  with  in- 

242 


THE      POWER      OF      PRINCIPLE 

f amy,  and  we  say,  "  It  is  impossible,  it  is  incredible !  " 
But  usually  there  is  no  mystery  in  it  at  all;  if  we 
had  known  the  man  better  we  should  not  be  incredu- 
lous.    And  when  we  do  get  at  the  real  facts  of  the 
case    all    mystery    disappears.     We    find    then    that 
there  has  been  a  long  process  of  sapping  and  under- 
mining before  the  crash  came;  that  the  man  never 
really  had  a  love  of  virtue  or  a  detestation  of  vice; 
that  he  had  been  accustomed  to  read  books  which 
peopled  his  mind  with  corrupting  images;  that  he 
had  played  with  fire  in  his  thoughts  a  thousand  times ; 
that  his  virtue  was  a  part  of  his  clothes,  not  a  thing 
inherent   in  himself;  that   his   religion   was   at  best 
an   aesthetic   emotion:   that,   in   fact,   he   had  not   a 
single,  clearly  defined  principle  which  he  could  call 
his  own.     A  building  will  stand  a  long  time  after  it 
is  undermined ;  so  a  man  may  stand  a  long  time  with- 
out any   solid   foundation   of   principle.     But   some 
day  the  undermined  house  falls  all  at  once,  and  great 
is  the  fall  of  it  —  and  this  is,  in  brief,  the  usual 
history  of  those  tragic  downfalls,  those  sudden  and 
total  collapses  of  character  and  reputation,  which  to 
the  outsider  seem  so  incredible  and  amazing. 

I  say  that  men  do  not  realise  this  fact,  and  it  is 
because  they  do  not,  that  they  court  defeat  upon  the 
battlefield  of  life.  Thus,  perhaps,  some  one  says, 
"  But  surely  prudence  would  be  sufficient  to  save  a 
man  in  such  a  crisis,"  and  it  is  by  no  means  uncom- 
mon to  find  men  arguing  that  morality  is  really  only 

243 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

a  code  of  prudence  after  all.  No  doubt  it  is  true 
that  a  man  in  his  sane  mind  can  readily  perceive  that 
certain  sins  are  highly  imprudent;  no  doubt  also 
morality  finds  a  certain  sanction  in  prudence.  But 
if  virtue  be  nothing  more  than  a  glorified  instinct 
of  prudence,  it  will  be  of  small  avail  when  the  in- 
flamed blood  of  youth  surges  through  the  brain. 
Besides,  the  sin  may  appear  so  secret  and  so  incapa- 
ble of  discovery  that  prudence  may  have  nothing  to 
say  against  it;  and  in  any  case  the  man  who  trusts 
to  prudence  only,  will  find  himself  arguing  with  the 
tempter,  which  is  always  the  first  step  in  submitting 
to  the  temptation.  No !  merely  prudential  consider- 
ations, however  plain,  are  not  strong  enough  to  save 
us ;  and  are  especially  inapplicable  to  youth,  whose 
temper  is  usually  at  the  furthest  possible  remove 
from  prudence.  Or,  again,  a  man  may  say,  "  A 
spirit  of  true  culture  will  preserve  men  from  suc- 
cumbing to  such  gross  temptations  as  this  of 
Joseph's."  Will  it?  Alas,  there  is  no  delusion  more 
absurd,  and  none  so  absolutely  contradicted  by  the 
facts  of  life.  No  doubt  culture  is  of  great  use  in 
human  discipline ;  it  redeems  the  mind  from  empti- 
ness, it  surrounds  it  with  a  zone  of  intellectual  in- 
terests, it  creates  a  certain  fastidiousness  of  taste 
which  is  offended  by  a  temptation  that  is  wholly  gross 
and  vulgar.  But  what  if  the  temptation  be  neither 
gross  nor  vulgar?  What  if  Venus  wears  the  gar- 
ments of  the  Angel  of  Light?     And  what  of  the  men 

244 


THE     POWER     OF     PRINCIPLE 

who  in  every  age  have  joined  culture  of  the  mind 
with  corruption  of  morals,  fine  manners  with  in- 
famous vices,  the  thoughts  of  the  Philosopher  with 
the  acts  and  habits  of  the  Satyr? 

Only  a  week  or  two  ago,  I  heard  of  the  case  of 
a  man,  well-born,  well-bred,  highly  educated,  and  on 
the  brink  of  marriage,  who  in  a  single  week  drank 
himself  to  death  in  circumstances  of  unspeakable  in- 
famy. This  man  was  a  scholar,  with  a  cultivated 
taste  for  the  best  forms  of  literature;  he  read  his 
Greek  Testament  day  by  day,  and  when  his  books 
were  examined  after  his  death  they  consisted  mainly 
of  books  on  religion,  curiously  mixed  with  the  filth- 
iest of  French  novels.  Exactly  what  happened  to 
send  him  to  his  tragic  end  with  such  rapidity  no  one 
will  ever  know ;  but  it  was  clear  that  a  sudden  temp- 
tation had  overwhelmed  him,  and  that  neither  the 
fastidious  taste  of  the  gentleman  nor  the  culture  of 
the  scholar  had  had  the  least  power  to  restrain  him 
from  plunging  into  the  abyss.  And  when  I  think 
of  the  Greek  Testament  and  the  scrofulous  French 
novel  lying  side  by  side  in  that  man's  library,  I  see 
another  thing,  that  mere  religiosity  has  as  little 
power  to  save  men  from  gross  sin  as  culture.  Do  not 
suppose  that  because  you  go  to  church  you  are  any 
the  less  likely  to  be  overwhelmed  in  the  evil  hour. 
Do  not  imagine  because  you  take  a  certain  intellectual 
interest  in  religion,  you  are  safe  from  the  fiery  darts 
of  the   wicked   one.     Joseph   might   have   been   the 

245 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

most  cultured  man  in  Egypt  and  the  most  interested 
student  of  her  religion,  but  neither  of  these  things 
would  have  saved  him  from  a  seduction  so  potent, 
so  terrible,  and  so  unexpectedly  thrust  upon  him. 
No !  once  more  I  say,  principle,  and  principle  alone 
can  save  you  in  such  hours  as  these.  You  must  have 
something  fundamental  on  which  you  can  fall  back 
—  a  belief,  a  conviction,  a  habit  of  thought ;  and 
this  Joseph  had.  He  knew  the  thing  was  wicked  — 
that  was  enough;  he  knew  that  God  would  see  what 
he  did,  and  he  dared  not  sin  under  the  very  eye  of 
God.  "  How  can  I  do  this  great  wickedness,  and 
sin  against  God?"  he  cried,  and  what  neither  pru- 
dence nor  culture  could  have  done  for  him,  religious 
principle  did. 

There  is  yet  one  final  train  of  thought  suggested 
by  this  episode  in  the  life  of  Joseph.  There  can  be 
no  doubt  it  was  part  of  the  discipline  he  endured  in 
achieving  that  final  greatness  of  character  which  made 
him  one  of  the  most  memorable  men  in  human  history. 
The  superficial  man  will  probably  say,  "  Why  are 
such  temptations  permitted  in  a  world  where  God  is 
supposed  to  rule?  If  God  wishes  me  to  be  pure, 
why  doesn't  He  keep  me  pure?  "  Simply  because 
you  are  a  man,  not  a  puppet,  and  because  purity 
cannot  truly  be  said  to  exist  without  the  conquest 
of  impurity,  as  light  cannot  be  said  to  exist  without 
darkness.  We  have  all  seen  a  boy  sail  a  kite.  The 
kite  soars  against  the  wind,  and  the  tighter  the  string 

246 


THE      POWER      OF      PRINCIPLE 


is  held  the  harder  the  kite  tugs  at  it,  and  the  higher 
it  soars.     So  it  is  with  us;  we  can  hardly  be  said 
to  possess  virtue  till  we  find  ourselves  in  active  oppo- 
sition with  something  that  is  not  virtue.     When  the 
kite  sails  with  a  loose  string  it  drops,  because  there 
is  not  enough  opposition  to  keep  it  afloat;  and  when 
men  have  no  odds  against  them  in  life,  nothing  to 
draw  out  their  vital  force  of  opposition,  they  also 
soon  trail  along  the  ground.     This  is  the  meaning 
of  temptation ;  it  is  discipline.     We  do  not  enter  the 
world  ready-made ;  we  are  engaged  in  the  making  of 
ourselves,  and  in  the  process,  temptation  must  needs 
play    a    tremendous    part.     To    blame    temptation, 
therefore,  is   merely   childish   and  foolish,  for  what 
great  life  has  ever  yet  been  lived  that  did  not  grapple 
with  the  ghostly  adversary,  and  win  its  greatness  out 
of  wrong  resisted,  evil  overcome?     And  if  we  do  not 
yet  realise   this,   if  we   weakly  blame   circumstances 
instead  of  ourselves  for  our  misdoings,  let  this  great 
saying  of  St.  Bernard's  bring  correction  and  invig- 
oration  to  our  minds.     "  Nothing  can  work  me  dam- 
age, except  myself.     The  harm  that  I  sustain  I  carry 
about  in  me ;  and  never  am  a  real  sufferer  but  by  my 
own  fault." 

And  so  the  last  truth  which  emerges  from  this 
story  is  that  character  is  fate,  to  quote  a  well-known 
aphorism  of  Novalis.  There  is  nothing  fortuitous  in 
such  battles  as  this  which  Joseph  fought ;  they  are 
determined    solely    by    character.     What    are    we? 

247 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

What  equipment  do  we  bring  to  the  struggle?  We 
may  not  be  tempted  precisely  as  Joseph  was,  but  no 
man  passes  through  life  without  his  terrible  hours  of 
testing  and  temptation.  And  again  I  remind  you 
that  such  hours  come  suddenly.  We  have  no  time 
to  debate  then,  how  we  shall  meet  them ;  they  are 
upon  us  before  we  know  it.  If  the  secrets  of  all 
hearts  in  this  congregation  were  revealed;  if  we 
dared  to  speak  of  the  things  which  we  ourselves  have 
known;  how  many  of  us  could  bear  witness  to  these 
sudden  temptations  which  break  on  the  soul  like  the 
black  squall  upon  a  summer  sea;  and  how  many  of 
us  would  shudder  at  the  thought  of  how  nearly  we 
made  shipwreck  of  life?  Brethren,  what  saved  us 
then,  and  what  alone  had  power  to  save  us?  Simply 
this ;  the  power  of  principle.  It  may  be  that  we  had 
absolutely  nothing  else  on  which  we  could  rely. 
Perhaps  the  great  temptation  overtook  us  in  a  time 
when  the  intellectual  difficulties  of  religion  had 
proved  too  great  for  us,  and  all  the  old  theologies 
in  which  we  had  been  bred,  had  melted  away.  But 
we  had  something  left  —  a  stubborn  conviction  that 
nothing  could  make  wickedness  other  than  wicked, 
that  God  remained  as  the  real  witness  and  judge  of 
our  life,  demanding  truth  in  the  inward  parts,  and 
we  could  say  as  F.  W.  Robertson  said,  "  After  find- 
ing littleness  where  I  expected  nobleness,  and  impur- 
ity where  I  thought  there  was  spotlessness,  again  and 
again  I  despaired  of  the  reality  of  goodness.     But 


THE      POWER      OF      PRINCIPLE 

in  all  that  struggle  the  bewilderment  never  told  upon 
my  conduct.  Moral  goodness  and  moral  beauty  are 
realities  —  they  are  no  dream ;  and  they  are  not  mere 
utilitarian  conveniences."  And  to  say  that  is  a  great 
thing;  yet  a  thing  we  all  may  say.  It  is  a  weapon 
which  is  invincible,  a  spell  before  which  the  most 
alluring  vision  of  evil  melts  away.  Brother,  cleave 
to  that ;  be  sure  that  whatever  changes,  right  and 
wrong  change  not ;  that  though  creeds  may  take  a 
thousand  forms,  these  have  but  one;  and  in  your 
darkest,  weakest,  most  tragic  hour,  learn  to  look  up 
and  say :  — 

So  near  is  glory  to  the  dust, 

So  nigh  is  God  to  man. 
When  duty  whispers  low  —  Thou  must, 

The  youth  replies  —  I  can. 

How    can    I    do    this    great   wickedness,    and   sin 
against  God? 


%m 


CHAMBERS  OF  IMAGERY 


XIV 
CHAMBERS  OF  IMAGERY 

"  What  the  ancients  of  the  house  of  Israel  do    in  the  dark, 
everyone  in  the  chambers  of  his  imagery." — Ezekiel  viii.  12. 

THE    chambers   of   imagery  —  a    striking,   sug- 
gestive   phrase.     It    refers    primarily    to    the 
practise  of  idolatry  among  the  Israelites. 

There  were  painted  chambers,  on  whose  walls  all 
kinds  of  creatures  associated  with  idolatry  were  de- 
picted — 

The  shape  of  beasts  and  creeping  things, 
The  body  that  availeth  not. 

There  were  pictures,  too,  of  pagan  deities,  and  all 
the  voluptuous  life  of  paganism  — 

Shapes  on  either  wall, 
Sea-coloured  from  some  rare  blue  shell 
At  many  a  Tyrian  interval, 
Horsemen  on  horses,  girdled  well, 
Delicate  and  desirable. 

And  in  these  secret  chambers  of  imagery  the  heart 
of  even  the  ancients  of  Israel  grew  corrupt.  The 
Mosaic  law  practically  forbade  art,  when  it  forbade 

353 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

the  likeness  being  made  of  any  living  creature;  and 
the  Mosaic  law  still  maintains  this  restriction,  so  that 
art  among  the  Mohammedan  races  is  confined  to  grace- 
ful intricate  lines  and  arabesques ;  geometrical  designs, 
but  never  the  human  form.  It  is  hard  for  us  to 
understand  this  restriction,  but  it  is  explained  by  the 
nature  of  the  Oriental  mind.  Voluptuousness  is  one 
of  the  distinct  characteristics  of  the  Oriental,  and 
among  such  races  art  soon  becomes  the  servant  of 
voluptuousness.  The  chamber  of  imagery  was  the 
picture  gallery  of  a  prostituted  art;  and  from  these 
chambers  streamed  forth  the  corruption  of  the  nation. 
These  ancient  idolatries  have  long  since  passed 
away,  and  the  ancients  of  Israel  no  longer  worship 
toward  the  East,  uttering  the  name  of  Baal ;  and  the 
women  of  Israel  no  longer  weep  for  the  Adonis  of 
Greek  Mythology,  under  another  name,  whose  story 
was  used  to  breed  and  inflame  all  the  degenerate  de- 
sires of  the  human  heart.  The  ancient  idolatries 
pass,  but  the  spirit  of  idolatry  is  not  so  easily  de- 
stroyed, and  we  still  have  our  chambers  of  imagery. 
Our  chamber  of  imagery  is  not  built  with  hands,  it 
is  within  ourselves.  It  is  painted  with  no  colours  of 
human  art ;  our  thoughts  are  the  artists,  and  our 
fancies  are  the  things  they  paint.  There  is  an  inner 
life  which  we  all  live,  so  closely  hidden  from  the 
world,  that  those  who  know  us  best,  little  suspect 
its  nature  and  character.  There  is  a  secret  chamber 
of  the  mind,  the  chamber  of  our  imagination,  where 


CHAMBERS       OF      IMAGERY 

we  live  a  life,  to  which  the  world  holds  no  clue.  Our 
real  life  is  the  life  of  our  thought,  our  hope,  our 
desire.  And  our  thoughts  are  forever  painting  for 
us  pictures  which  allure  and  delight  us,  which  per- 
haps disgrace  and  debase  us.  In  the  mind  of  the 
saint  hang  sacred  pictures,  pictures  of  sacrifice,  de- 
votion, and  heroic  death ;  in  the  mind  of  the  avaricious 
man,  pictures  of  senseless  opulence;  in  the  mind  of 
the  profligate,  pictures  of  extravagant  and  evil 
pleasures ;  in  the  mind  of  the  ambitious  man,  pictures 
of  immense  triumph,  world-wide  coronation,  endless 
power.  From  infancy  to  old  age  we  dwell  with  these 
visions.  Punished  or  neglected  of  the  world,  we  re- 
tire into  our  chambers  of  imagery,  and  solace  our- 
selves with  the  sweet  delusion  of  our  dreams.  The 
dream-picture  that  thus  glimmers  perpetually  on  the 
walls  of  the  imagination  may  be  a  seduction  to  our 
worse  selves ;  it  may  be  an  impulse  to  our  best  selves ; 
so  that  we  may  say, 

All  my  days  I'll  go  the  softlier,  sadlier 
For  that  dream's  sake. 

But,  whatever  the  nature  of  our  dream-pictures,  this 
is  true  of  all  of  them,  they  rule  us.  Our  imagination 
is  the  most  potent  element  in  our  lives.  It  is  in  the 
chamber  of  imagery  that  our  real  life  is  lived,  for 
what  we  desire,  that  we  seek ;  what  we  covet,  that  we 
pursue ;  what  we  think,  that  we  are. 

The  first  thing  I  ask  you  to  observe  then,  is  that 
255 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

we  are  the  custodians  of  this  inner  and  secret  life,  as 
well  as  of  the  outer  and  open  life. 

That  we  are  the  custodians  of  the  outer  life  we  all 
admit,  and  hence  the  great  stress  which  the  world 
lays  on  what  is  called  behaviour.  We  know  perfectly 
well  that  it  is  to  our  interest  to  exercise  a  sedulous 
care  over  the  outward  life.  Hence,  if  we  have  any 
desire  to  succeed  in  life  —  and  who  has  not  this  de- 
sire ?  —  we  cultivate  the  mind,  we  cultivate  the  grace 
of  good  manners,  we  cultivate  the  body  that  it  may 
be  efficient  for  its  duties ;  so  that  externally,  at  least, 
we  may  become  persons  acceptable  to  our  fellow- 
creatures.  And  there,  you  will  observe,  all  that  the 
world  has  to  teach  us  about  the  custody  of  ourselves, 
stops.  Among  the  great  races  of  antiquity,  bodily 
symmetry  and  beauty  were  the  chief  things;  and  to 
achieve  physical  perfection  was  to  attain  the  ultimate 
reward  of  public  praise.  Among  the  ruling  classes 
of  the  eighteenth  century  to  be  a  man  of  honour  was 
a  sufficient  passport  to  society,  and  honour  in  this 
case  meant  nothing  more  than  a  sufficient  code  of 
good  behaviour.  Among  large  classes  of  our  fellow 
men  to-day  we  find  that  to  fulfil  a  certain  social  code 
is  the  one  thing  in  demand;  but  all  scrutiny  of 
private  morals  is  discouraged,  and  regarded  as  an 
unjust  inquisition.  Thus  the  inner  life  is  generally 
ignored,  and  we  are  taught  to  ignore  it.  What  did 
the  Greek  care  for  the  private  life  of  the  athlete  who 
won  the  applause  of  the  populace  by  his  physical 

256 


CHAMBERS       OF       IMAGERY 

beauty?  What  did  the  eighteenth  century  society 
care  for  the  secret  follies  of  its  statesmen  and  its 
leaders,  so  long  as  they  paid  their  betting  debts,  their 
debts  of  honour  as  they  were  called,  and  obeyed  the 
lax  conventions  of  superficial  propriety?  What 
does  the  world  care  still  for  the  private  life  of  the 
society  queen,  who  charms  men  by  her  beauty,  of  the 
actress  who  pleases  them  by  her  art,  or  the  man  of 
genius  who  delights  them  with  his  gifts  ?  And  if  you 
ask  how  it  is  that  we  come  to  reason  thus,  is  it  not 
because  we  have  never  grasped  the  truth  that  we  are 
the  custodians  of  an  inner  life,  as  well  as  an  outward  ? 
We  are  responsible  not  only  for  our  behaviour  but 
for  our  souls.  We  have  entrusted  to  us  not  only  our 
body,  not  only  the  kind  of  man  which  is  seen  and 
judged  by  the  physical  eye,  but  an  inner  self,  our 
thoughts,  our  emotions,  our  desires,  our  imagination. 
When  we  have  regulated  our  conduct  to  society  by 
the  strictest  code  the  world  can  give  us,  we  have  done 
but  a  very  little  thing ;  the  great  thing  remaining  to 
be  done  is  to  regulate  our  inner  life  before  God,  and 
to  make  that  chamber  of  imagery  where  all  our  secret 
life  is  lived,  a  temple  and  a  shrine. 

Let  me  try  to  put  the  matter  even  more  plainly. 
What  is  it  I  mean  when  I  say  that  we  have  the  cus- 
tody over  an  inner  life,  as  well  as  an  outer?  I  mean 
that  we  have  to  determine  what  we  think,  as  well  as 
what  we  do,  that  we  are  responsible  for  the  nature 
of  our  imaginations  as  well  as  of  our  acts. 

257 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

That  touches  us  more  nearly,  because  very  many 
of  us  assume  that  we  have  no  control  over  our  imag- 
inative life.  The  pictures  in  the  chamber  of  imagery 
paint  themselves,  we  do  not  paint  them.  Visions  of 
evil,  infinitely  seductive,  float  into  the  mind,  we  know 
not  whence  or  how.  We  think  that  we  have  no  re- 
sponsibility for  them,  no  more  responsibility  than 
the  fertile  earth  has  for  the  wind-blown  thistle  seed 
which  may  fall  upon  it,  and  because  we  think  thus 
we  make  no  effort  to  resist  impure  visions,  or  restrain 
evil  ones.  And  so  it  happens  that  men  whose  out- 
ward lives  are  virtuous,  often  indulge  themselves  in 
evil  visions,  without  so  much  as  suspecting  that  they 
sin  in  doing  it.  Nay,  more;  they  compensate  them- 
selves for  the  strictness  of  their  outward  virtue,  by 
the  riot  of  their  secret  thought.  They  turn  to  the 
chamber  of  imagery  with  an  unconfessed  delight, 
they  abandon  themselves  to  the  seduction  of  thoughts 
they  would  not  dare  to  utter,  they  act  out  in  the 
theatre  of  the  mind,  dramas  which  would  horrify  them 
if  they  were  transposed  to  the  theatre  of  conduct. 
And  if  you  question  them  on  such  things,  they  will 
say  at  once,  "  It  surely  matters  little  what  I  think, 
so  long  as  my  thought  does  not  become  an  act. 
And  under  any  circumstance  I  cannot  control  my 
thought,  my  fancy,  and  my  imagination  —  these  act 
for  themselves  independently  of  my  will  or  my 
desire." 

The  answer  to  such  arguments  is  threefold.  First, 
258 


CHAMBERS       OF       IMAGERY 

we  have  to  remember  that  our  imagination  is  extra- 
ordinarily sensitive,  it  is  the  most  sensitive  part  of 
our  nature,  and  therefore  it  is  the  point  where  sin 
attacks  us  first.  There  is  a  little  instrument  known 
to  science  as  the  radiometer.  It  is  a  tiny  weather- 
cock with  a  silver  side  to  it;  and  so  sensitive  is  it  to 
light,  that  when  the  slightest  beam  of  light  impinges 
upon  it,  even  though  it  is  but  the  light  of  a  candle 
many  yards  away,  it  begins  slowly  to  revolve.  In 
the  same  way  the  imagination  is  exquisitely  sensitive, 
and  that  which  stirs  the  imagination  stirs  the  whole 
man.  Set  the  imagination  revolving,  and  its  move- 
ment is  at  once  communicated  to  the  whole  life. 

Again,  we  have  to  recollect  that  debasement  of  any 
kind  begins  in  debasement  of  imagination.  We 
all  remember  how  a  great  painter  said  that  he  never 
dared  to  look  upon  a  bad  picture,  because  for  days 
afterwards  it  influenced  him  so  powerfully  that  he 
could  not  paint  well.  He  was  deflected  from  true  art 
by  the  mere  memory  of  bad  art,  his  draughtsmanship 
and  colour  suffered  instantly,  even  by  the  recollection 
of  an  art  which  was  inferior.  Can  it  be  a  light 
thing,  then,-  if  we  fill  our  chamber  of  imagery  with 
bad  pictures?  Does  not  conduct  instantly  shape 
itself  in  correspondence  with  the  imagination?  Is 
not  the  thing  we  think  in  our  private  hours  the  com- 
pelling curve  along  which  our  public  acts  are  bound 
to  move? 

And  then  we  must  remember,  too,  that  the  wisest 
259 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

men  have  always  recognised  the  danger  of  unre- 
strained imagination,  and  have  claimed  and  exercised 
power  to  restrain  it.  If  there  be  any  virtue,  think 
of  these  things,  the  things  that  are  pure,  lovely,  and 
of  good  report,  says  St.  Paul.  You  can  think  on 
them ;  it  is  a  matter  of  will ;  and  you  can  refuse  to 
think  on  impure  and  unlovely  things  —  that  also  is 
a  matter  of  will.  The  door  of  the  imagination  does 
not  stand  wide  open  to  all  comers;  and  you,  who 
would  at  once  close  the  door  of  your  home  against 
the  intrusion  of  the  rabble,  have  you  no  power  to 
close  the  door  of  the  mind  against  the  rabble  thoughts 
that  defile  it?  You  have  that  power;  you  may  be 
master  of  your  thoughts  if  you  will,  even  as  you  are 
master  of  your  speech,  and  master  of  your  habits; 
and  against  all  the  poor  sophistry  which  assumes  the 
inability  of  the  imagination  to  defend  itself,  which 
claims  that  the  pictures  on  the  walls  paint  themselves, 
which  disclaims  responsibility  for  them,  and  treats 
them  as  of  small  account,  stand  those  facts  of  life  to 
which  all  wise  men  bear  witness,  that  we  can  help  what 
we  think,  and  that  it  is  of  the  highest  moment  that 
we  should  watch  our  thoughts,  since  what  we  think 
we  are.  "  Let  no  man  say  when  he  is  tempted,  I  am 
tempted  of  God;  for  God  cannot  be  tempted  with  evil, 
neither  tempteth  He  any  man,  but  every  man  is 
tempted,  when  he  is  drawn  away  of  his  own  lust  and 
enticed."  Consider  that  saying  of  St.  James  and 
then  you  will  see  that  it  is  neither  God  nor  Satan  who 

260 


CHAMBERS       OF       IMAGERY 

paints  the  picture  on  the  wall;  we  are  the  artists  and 
the  audience,  we  are  the  tempter  and  the  tempted,  we 
are  the  sinners  and  the  victims. 

Chambers  of  imagery.  How  ought  we  to  think  of 
our  imaginations?  Let  us  turn  to  Scripture  for  a 
moment  that  we  may  understand  how  we  ought  to 
think  of  our  imaginations.  There  are  many  things 
in  the  Bible  on  which  we  may  hold  divergent  views, 
but  there  is  one  thing  on  which  we  can  scarcely  dis- 
agree —  the  essential  truth  of  the  estimate  of  human 
nature  which  the  Bible  gives  us.  The  Bible  alone 
of  all  great  books  in  the  world  does  not  flatter  man. 
Some  of  you  will  perhaps  recollect  how  Browning 
deals  with  this  truth  in  one  of  his  most  striking 
poems.  He  pictures  to  us  a  woman  who  hid  under 
the  smile  of  a  saint,  a  sordid  vice  which  was  not  dis- 
covered till  she  was  dead.  And  then  he  goes  on  to 
say  that  here  is  an  illustration  of  all  that  Christianity 
has  to  say  about  original  sin.  It  is  the  fashion,  he 
says,  of  modern  teachers  to  flatter  men ;  to  take  rose- 
water  views  of  life;  to  proclaim  how  radically  good 
man  is ;  but  not  so  Christianity,  she 

launched  point-blank  her  dart, 
At  the  head  of  a  lie ;  taught  original  sin, 
The  corruption  of  man's  heart. 

And  when  the  Bible  speaks  of  man's  heart  it  means 
his  imagination.  The  accusation  God  makes  against 
man  is,  that  "  every  imagination  of  the  thoughts  of 

261 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

his  heart  is  only  evil  continually."  It  is  in  the  cham- 
ber of  imagery  that  all  the  corruption  of  human  life 
begins. 

Take  the  decalogue.  There  are  ten  commandments, 
eight  of  which  have  to  do  with  outward  conduct. 
Then  comes  the  tenth,  the  last,  the  consummating 
commandment,  the  top  of  this  great  staircase  of 
morality,  and  what  is  the  tenth  commandment?  Thou 
shalt  not  covet  —  something  that  grows  in  the  mind 
and  the  imagination.  You  may  remove  at  a  stroke 
three  commandments  that  precede  it:  they  are  un- 
necessary if  the  tenth  be  kept,  for  without  the  picture 
of  things  we  covet  which  inflame  the  imagination,  who 
would  kill  or  steal  or  commit  adultery?  "  Covetous- 
ness,  which  is  idolatry,"  says  the  Apostle,  and  is  not 
the  definition  accurate  ?  And  is  it  not  in  the  chambers 
of  imagery  that  we  accustom  ourselves  to  these  visions 
which  translate  themselves  on  some  apt  opportunity 
into  murder,  theft,  and  adultery,  into  false  witness 
which  smooths  the  path  of  our  ambition,  into  the 
dishonour  shown  to  parents  who  are  a  hindrance  to 
our  pride,  or  the  contempt  of  the  Sabbath  that  we 
may  squeeze  a  little  more  work  or  a  little  more  pleasure 
out  of  our  days :  into  that  making  of  graven  images, 
before  which  we  bow  down  at  last  and  worship,  even 
as  the  ancients  of  Israel  bowed  down  before  the  painted 
figures  on  the  wall?  Thou  shalt  not  covet  —  it  is  the 
sum  of  all  the  commandments,  and  coveting  is  not  an 

262 


CHAMBERS       OF       IMAGERY 

act ;  it  is  a  temper,  it  is  a  process  of  the  imagination, 
it  is  a  thing  so  secret  to  ourselves  that  none  but  our- 
selves know  that  it  exists. 

Take,  again,  that  most  striking  parable  of  Christ's, 
the  Empty  House,  which  is  surely  the  House  of  the 
Mind  and  Imagination.  Behold  the  house  swept  and 
garnished,  for  by  a  violent  effort  the  man  has  stopped 
the  riot  of  his  thoughts,  he  has  closed  the  drama,  he 
has  driven  the  actors  out  into  the  darkness.  Here 
at  least  is  the  hint  of  man's  power  over  his  inner  life, 
a  hint  that  has  been  acted  on  by  multitudes  of  men 
who  have  sought  to  scourge  themselves  into  purity, 
to  reduce  the  mind  into  emptiness  rather  than  allow  it 
licence,  to  break  up  the  whole  mechanism  of  life  in  a 
desperate  effort  to  resist  the  temptations  of  life.  But 
then  follows  something  infinitely  more  subtle ;  Christ 
says  you  cannot  keep  the  house  of  the  Imagination 
empty.  It  is  not  enough  to  draw  the  disfiguring 
brush  over  the  painted  wall;  the  eye  resents  mere 
blankness.  There  are  other  pictures  that  must  be 
painted  there,  there  is  a  noble  drama  that  must  be 
enacted  if  you  would  forget  the  ignoble,  for  evil  is 
only  overcome  with  good.  This  is  what  the  man  of 
the  parable  forgets,  and  so  the  expelled  actors,  finding 
the  house  empty,  come  back,  re-inforced  and  clamor- 
ous by  exile,  and  the  last  state  of  that  man  is  worse 
than  the  first.  Look  at  that  parable,  and  do  you  not 
at  once  see  that  it  is  a  mental  state  which  it  describes  ? 

263 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

Do  you  not  feel  that  Christ  means  it  to  be  a  solemn 
lesson  on  the  use  and  perversion  of  the  imagination 
in  mankind  ? 

Or  turn  once  more  to  that  fearful  picture,  not  less 
fearful  than  true,  of  the  absolute  unspeakable  cor- 
ruption of  pagan  life  which  Paul  gives  us  in  his 
Epistle  to  the  Romans,  and  then  take  note  of  what 
he  describes  to  be  the  root  of  this  corruption.  "  They 
became  vain  in  their  imaginations,  and  their  foolish 
hearts  were  darkened."  Those  who  have  written  of 
those  abominations  of  pagan  life  which  find  a  record 
in  such  frescoes  as  one  may  still  see  at  Pompeii,  have 
usually  spoken  as  if  these  things  were  the  fruit  of 
moral  decay ;  Paul  would  have  called  them  not  the 
fruit,  but  the  seed,  not  the  effect,  but  the  cause. 
The  corruption  of  imagination  preceded  the  corrup- 
tion of  life,  and  art  has  recorded  that  corrupt  imag- 
ination for  us.  And  so  it  has  always  been ;  so  it  will 
ever  be ;  it  is  that  which  proceedeth  out  of  a  man's 
heart  that  defileth  him.  And  hence  all  redemption 
begins  with  the  redemption  of  thought ;  all  purification 
with  purity  of  mind,  and  it  is  in  the  chamber  of 
imagery  that  those  forces  are  begotten  that  redeem 
the  soul,  even  as  it  is  there  also  that  the  forces  are 
begotten  which  destroy  it. 

And  now  let  me  put  to  you  this  one  question :  What 
is  it  that  goes  on  in  your  Chamber  of  Imagery?  I 
need  not  point  out  the  bearing  of  all  that  I  have  said 
on  a  young  man's  life,  because  we  know  well,  that  if 

264 


CHAMBERS       OF       IMAGERY 

ever  the  imagination  is  strong  in  us,  it  is  in  the  days 
of  youth.  In  that  painted  chamber  of  your  mind, 
in  that  dim-lit  theatre  of  your  thought,  the  acts  of 
all  your  future  life  rehearse  themselves.  Have  you 
taken  any  serious  notice  of  what  goes  on  within  you? 
Have  you  treated  this  incessant  drama  of  your  fancy 
merely  as  a  pastime?  Have  you  taken  any  pains  to 
direct  or  curb  this  drama,  to  feed  the  mind  with  right 
thoughts,  to  supply  this  restless  artist,  wThich  we  call 
the  Imagination,  with  right  materials  and  right 
models,  so  that  the  picture  on  the  wall  shall  be  one 
you  will  not  be  ashamed  for  all  the  world  to  see,  in 
the  day  when  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  are  revealed? 
Do  you,  for  instance,  exercise  any  circumspection  in 
your  talk?  There  is  a  kind  of  talk,  all  too  common 
among  youths,  which  poisons  the  imagination ;  do  you 
indulge  yourself  in  this  talk?  Or  do  you  take  any 
serious  care  in  the  selection  of  the  books  you  read? 
There  are  books  also  which  defile  the  mind,  and  which 
may  fill  it  with  ineffaceable  pictures  which  are  so 
many  incentives  to  evil ;  do  you  read  them,  not  in  the 
dispassionate  way  a  critic  might  read  them,  but  by 
preference  and  with  greediness  ?  And  there  are  forms 
of  art,  also,  which  are  a  prostitution  of  art,  even  as 
in  the  ancient  days  of  paganism;  and  do  you  seek 
these,  passing  by  all  that  is  great  and  noble,  all  that 
is  uplifting,  that  the  lust  of  the  eye  may  satiate  itself 
upon  things  unworthy  and  even  base?  These  are 
plain  questions ;  believe  me  they  go  to  the  very  heart 

265 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 


of  life.  Yet  we  are  for  the  most  part  careless  of 
them ;  and  so  long  as  our  life  is  decent  we  trouble 
ourselves  little  or  not  at  all  over  the  nature  of  our 
thoughts,  forgetting  this  most  solemn  truth  that  our 
thoughts  are  but  our  acts  rehearsed. 

The  chamber  of  imagery;  could  I  indeed  look  into 
it,  I  should  know  all  that  there  is  to  be  known  about 
you.  We  say  sometimes  that  we  may  judge  a  man 
by  his  books,  or  by  the  company  he  keeps;  we  may 
judge  him  yet  more  accurately  by  the  chamber  of 
imagery  in  which  he  loves  to  dwell.  When  I  saw  the 
newly-opened  apartments  of  the  Borgias  in  the  Vati- 
can at  Rome,  I  seemed  to  see  in  those  walls  covered 
with  gay  and  brilliant  and  voluptuous  frescoes,  all 
the  history  of  the  Borgias.  When  I  stood,  later,  in 
the  bare  and  quiet  cell  of  Savonarola  in  Florence,  I 
also  read  the  secret  of  the  man.  In  the  one  the 
voluptuous,  in  the  other  the  austere;  in  the  one  the 
vain  shows  of  life,  in  the  other  the  serenity  of  eternity  ; 
the  one  a  banqueting  house,  the  other  a  shrine.  Each 
has  left  his  record  on  the  wall,  and  he  who  knows 
least  of  history  feels  the  difference.  He  knows  that 
Christ  never  trod  within  that  splendid  chamber  of  the 
profligate  Pope,  but  that  often  Christ  stood  in  that 
narrow  cell,  where  Savonarola  wept,  and  prayed,  and 
toiled  for  the  redemption  of  the  city  he  loved  so  well. 

And  so,  I  ask  you,  what  are  the  pictures  on  the 
walls,  what  is  the  chamber  of  your  imagery  —  a  place 
of  infamy  or  a  shrine  ? 

266 


CHAMBERS       OF       IMAGERY 

I  would  plead  with  you  for  the  religious  culture 
of  the  imagination.  I  would  implore  you  to  treat 
your  imagination  seriously  and  reverently.  I  would 
ask  you  to  notice  in  literature,  if  nowhere  else,  and 
there  chiefly  because  the  example  is  most  readily  per- 
ceived, the  evil  wrought  by  impure  imagination,  and 
the  good  wrought  by  the  sanctified  imagination,  that 
you  may  learn  how  large  a  part  imagination  plays 
in  influencing  character.  And  then,  I  would  ask  you 
to  enter  your  chamber  of  imagery,  and  ascertain  what 
are  the  pictures  on.  the  walls.  It  may  be  that  with 
some  of  you  they  are  corrupt;  with  others  they  are 
merely  vain  and  foolish  pictures,  which  are  incapable 
of  inspiring  any  lofty  deed  or  noble  thought.  O,  that 
I  could  replace  them  with  other  pictures !  O,  that  it 
were  in  my  power  to  fill  your  imagination  with  those 
immortal  pictures  from  which  the  lives  of  men  have 
received  their  noblest  impulse  and  direction,  these 
many  centuries !  For  I  would  fain  paint  there  a  pic- 
ture of  the  joyous  innocence  of  Christ,  that  looking 
on  it  you  might  know  how  blessed  is  the  man  who  is 
pure  in  heart.  I  would  paint  the  picture  of  Jesus 
in  His  helpfulness  towards  mankind;  with  the  little 
children  in  His  arms,  and  the  Magdalen  at  His  feet, 
that  you  might  know  how  happy  is  the  life  that  is 
spent  in  doing  good.  And  I  would  paint  Him  as  He 
dies,  young,  ardent,  beloved,  yet  willing  to  be  sacri- 
ficed, that  you  might  know  what  Divine  triumph  there 
is  in  the  life  that  gives  itself  for  others.     And  then 

267 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

over  all  these  pictures  I  would  paint  a  scroll,  on  which 
these  words  should  shine  in  starry  clearness,  "  Behold, 
I  have  given  you  an  example;  let  the  mind  that  was 
in  Christ  Jesus  be  in  you."  These  are  pictures  which 
never  fade,  and  in  them  the  best  life  of  the  world  has 
been  nourished  for  nearly  two  thousand  years.  These 
are  the  pictures  that  make  the  chamber  of  imagery  a 
temple  and  a  shrine;  and  from  such  a  shrine  there 
flows  not  the  influence  that  corrupts  but  redeems,  there 
issues  forth  the  life  that  is  wise  and  lofty,  pure  and 
noble,  and  which  has  that  divinest  of  all  beauties,  the 
beauty  of  Holiness. 


268 


THE  REPROACH  OF  THE  FLOWER 


XV 
THE  REPROACH  OF  THE  FLOWER 

A    FLOWER    SERMON 

"And  is  not  the  life  more  than  meat?"— St.  Matt.  vi.  25. 
"And  ye  have  therefore  received  Jesus  Christ,  the  Lord,  so 
walk  ye  in  Him,  rooted  and  built  up  in  Him."— Col.  ii.  6,  7. 

WHAT  is  the  clearest  thought,  the  most  vivid 
impression  that  comes  to  us  when  we  gather 
in  such  a  service  as  this?  Here  there  are  around  me 
the  flowers  of  the  earth,  these  delicate,  fragile  puri- 
ties and  fragrances  of  the  fields  and  gardens,  each 
fashioned  in  exquisite  art,  each  contributing  elements 
of  delight  to  the  senses,  each,  as  it  were,  a  poem  in 
colour,  a  symphony  in  grace.  Is  not  the  clearest  im- 
pression this,  that  here  we  have  the  manifestations  of 
a-  life,  a  life  apparently  quite  different  in  essence  and 
quality  from  life  as  it  exists  among  men  ?  Man's  life 
is  often  a  thing  of  sorrow  and  of  labour;  it  is  diffi- 
cult, it  is  perplexed,  it  is  threatened;  but  here  is  a 
kind  of  life  that  seems  to  be  simple  and  instinctive. 
Man,  with  infinite  toil,  builds  up  for  himself  a  beauti- 
ful edifice  of  life :  the  flower,  in  silence  and  in  the  con- 
cord of  all  its  parts  and  qualities,  comes  easily  to  its 

271 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

perfection.  "  The  lily  toils  not  nor  spins,"  says 
Jesus ;  yet  it  is  arrayed  in  a  glory  which  Solomon,  in 
all  his  splendour  and  with  all  his  seeking,  never  knew. 
A  life,  that  is  what  we  are  confronted  with,  and  a  life 
different  from  our  own.  Side  by  side  with  our  vexed 
human  life,  there  is  going  on  at  this  moment,  through- 
out the  wide  world,  a  sweeter  and  a  more  gracious 
kind  of  life,  of  which  we  rarely  think.  Men  may  be 
counted,  but  who  shall  take  a  census  of  the  flowers? 
Year  by  year  the  innumerable  army  of  the  flowers, 
beneath  the  banner  of  the  sunlight,  comes  marching 
up  over  field  and  pasture,  to  possess  the  earth ;  a  living 
army,  called  forth  by  the  breath  of  the  Almighty. 
Think  of  that  vast  invasion,  picture  to  yourself  the 
delicate  strength  of  this  living  host,  and  then  you  will 
come  to  some  sense  of  the  Divine  mystery  of  life 
itself;  and  that  is  what  Jesus  would  have  you  think 
when  He  turns  from  the  contemplation  of  the  flowers 
of  the  field,  and  says  to  this  weary,  anxious  congrega- 
tion gathered  at  His  feet,  "  Is  not  the  life,  that  life 
you  are  looking  at,  more  than  meat?  " 

Read  with  care  this  familiar  and  gracious  passage 
of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  and  I  think  you  will  see 
at  once  that  this  is  Christ's  thought,  and  you  will 
see  how  He  applies  it.  Christ  sees  the  life  of  man, 
and  what  impresses  Him  most  in  the  life  of  man,  is 
its  distraction,  its  disquietude,  its  misguidance. 
Christ  sees  the  life  of  nature,  and  what  impresses  Him 
most  in  the  life  of  nature,  is  its  serenity,  its  efficiency, 

272 


REPROACH     OF     THE     FLOWER 

the  sureness  of  its  development.  The  flower  has,  or 
seems  to  have,  the  happiness  that  man  has  not ;  it  ful- 
fils its  true  nature,  which  man  seldom  does.  The  lilies 
of  the  field  are  man's  reproach.  For,  while  man 
tramples  over  the  whole  earth  with  the  lust  of  wealth 
or  the  lust  of  war  in  his  heart,  spoiling  all  he  touches 
and  spoiling  himself  in  the  process,  the  flower  simply 
grows  in  obedience  to  Divine  laws,  written  in  its  own 
nature.  And  the  beauty  of  God  rests  upon  the  flowers 
of  the  field,  while  ugliness  and  distortion  mark  the 
path  of  man.  What  then  is  wrong  with  man  ?  Who 
is  at  fault  that  man,  with  all  his  infinite  variety  of 
powers,  should  stand  ashamed  before  the  humblest 
flower?  The  fault  lies  in  man,  and  with  man,  because 
he  has  forgotten  that  the  life  is  more  than  meat,  he 
is  more  concerned  over  externals  than  internals,  he 
acts  as  if  his  creed  were  that  it  is  more  important  to 
get  a  living  than  to  live,  he  seeks  not  to  be  something, 
but  to  get  something.  And  it  is  from  that  cardinal 
error  that  Christ  would  redeem  us  by  the  healing  spec- 
tacle of  Nature.  Nature  works  with  but  one  object 
—  the  perfection  of  all  her  creatures.  Her  great  con- 
cern is  with  the  life,  the  adequate  development  of  all 
the  possibilities  of  life  in  each.  Let  man  learn  this 
lesson  for  himself,  and  then  he  will  be  on  the  way  to 
be  perfect,  "  even  as  the  Father  in  Heaven  is  perfect." 
Let  him  root  and  ground  himself  in  the  thoughts  of 
Jesus,  and  the  world  will  again  become  the  paradise 
and  the  very  garden  of  God.     But  until  man  does  this 


THE      DIVINE      CHALLENGE 

the  flower  will  be  his  reproach ;  he  will  stand  ashamed 
before  it,  because  the  flower  is  for  him  the  type  of  a 
perfect  life  which  he,  with  all  his  seeking,  does  not 
find. 

The  reproach  of  the  fLoxoer  —  that  then  seems  to  me 
to  be  Christ's  suggestion  to  us.  Christ  comes  to  us 
with  the  lilies  of  the  field  in  His  hand,  and  says, 
"  Look  at  these,  and  then  look  upon  your  own  soiled 
imperfect  life ;  come  into  the  green  places  of  the  earth 
and  rest  with  Me  awhile  that  ye  may  learn  of  Me 
whom  poets  and  prophets  call  the  Lily  of  the  Valley, 
the  Rose  of  Sharon."  There  is  a  kind  of  life  of  which 
the  flower  is  the  living  parable,  asking  from  the 
world  only  the  simplest  things,  becoming  beautiful 
not  for  the  sake  of  praise  but  for  the  satisfaction 
of  laws  written  in  its  own  nature,  content  to  add  a 
little  brightness  to  the  world  and  to  cheer  the  hearts 
of  men.  The  life  of  the  flower  —  look  at  it  and, 
when  you  look,  ask  whether  the  flower  is  not  a  re- 
proach to  you. 

The  reproach  of  the  flower.  First  of  all,  we  may 
say  that  the  reproach  of  the  flower  is  the  reproach 
of  simplicity.  Why  does  Christ  bid  us  look  upon 
the  flowers?  Have  they  any  spiritual  lessons  to  im- 
part? Yes,  they  have  the  great  lesson,  and  surely 
it  is  a  spiritual  lesson,  of  simplicity.  Who  is  there 
of  us  who  has  not  at  some  time  or  other  felt 
this  revelation  of  the  beautiful  simplicity  that  is  in 
nature,  when  in  summer  days  we  have  turned  away 


REPROACH     OF     THE     FLOWER 

from  the  city  for  a  little  time,  and  have  sought  the 
ancient  haunts  of  peace  where  Nature  is?  Do  you 
recall  your  reflections?  If  you  recall  them,  did  they 
not  run  somewhat  in  this  channel?  Did  you  not  find 
yourself  thinking  in  your  own  mind,  "  How  poor  and 
vain  and  vexed  and  trivial  does  that  life  seem  that  I 
I  have  been  living,  compared  with  this  life  where 
I  know  *  the  silence  that  is  in  the  starry  sky,  the 
sleep  that  is  among  the  lonely  hills? '  How  keenly 
do  I  feel  that  in  all  this  stress  and  rush  of  city  life, 
I  may  have  followed  but  a  vain  dream,  and  disquieted 
myself  in  vain.  Here  is  the  old  sweet  life  of  Nature 
going  on  in  such  perfect  quietness,  and  I  am  so  full 
of  disquietude  and  of  anxiety."  And  then  there 
came  to  you  the  thought  that  in  the  midst  of  this 
busy  life  of  yours,  perhaps  you  had  really  not  lived  at 
all.  You  had  denied  yourself  "  leisure  to  grow  wise 
and  shelter  to  grow  ripe,"  The  bank  account  had 
grown,  it  may  be,  but  somehow  you  felt  the  soul 
had  not  thrived,  and  there  came  to  you  the  revelation 
of  simplicity;  there  came  to  you  the  thought  that 
possibly,  after  all,  your  character  would  have  been 
serener,  your  heart  would  have  known  more  of  the 
living  pulse  of  joy,  if  you  had  lived  a  simple  and  a 
quiet  life  close  to  the  heart  of  Nature.  That  was 
when  the  flower  reproached  you,  that  was  when  you 
felt  the  reproach  of  the  flower,  and  as  you  passed 
through  the  fields  every  daisy  seemed  to  turn  its  eye 
up  to  you  and  rebuke  you  with  the  distraction,  the 

275 


THE      DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

lack  of  simplicity,  the  lack  of  content  that  was  in 
your  life. 

"  The  life  is  more  than  meat,"  says  Christ.  What 
life?  The  word  which  Christ  uses  means  "soul," 
for  you  recollect  that  upon  another  occasion  Christ 
uses  the  same  phrase  when  He  says,  "  What  shall 
it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose 
his  own  life,  or  his  own  soul?  "  Why  are  you  not 
able  to  live  a  simple  life?  Let  me  say  in  parenthesis, 
by  the  phrase  "  simple  life  "  I  do  not  mean  a  life 
necessarily  lived  in  the  hamlet,  or  on  the  hill  side, 
or  in  the  lonely  valley.  Simple  lives  may  be  lived 
anywhere.  But  why  is  it  we  cannot  live  simple  lives? 
It  is  because  we  do  not  believe  in  the  soul  enough. 
You  do  not  feel  God's  life  within  you.  If  you  did, 
you  would  care  for  no  other  life.  Christ  saw  in  His 
day  a  vast  society,  a  vast  civilisation,  devoting  all 
its  energies  to  the  creation  of  pleasures  for  the  body, 
and  He  gave  the  true  reason  for  it  all.  He  said,  in 
effect,  that  the  Gentile  nations  had  lost  faith  in  the 
soul,  and  He  stated  plainly  that  material  luxury,  the 
growth  of  luxury,  is  the  sole  beatitude  of  Paganism. 
Where  there  is  no  genuine  faith  in  the  soul,  no  sense 
of  God's  life  in  us,  then  there  is  bound  to  follow  the 
materialisation  of  society.  But  a  revived  faith  in 
the  soul  always  brings  with  it  simplification  of  life. 
We  are  all  ready  to  discuss  the  simple  life  to-day 
because  we  are  all  of  us  only  too  conscious  of  many 
elements  of  weariness  in  the  complicated  life  we  live, 

276 


REPROACH     OF     THE     FLOWER 

but  let  us  be  sure  of  this,  it  is  nothing  but  a  spiritual 
revival  that  will  make  the  simple  life  possible  to  us. 
We  must  find  anew  the  God  of  the  lilies  before  we 
are  able  to  live  in  the  quiet  places  where  the  lilies 
grow.     And,  if  you  think  for  a  moment  what  the 
past  history  of  our  race  has  to  teach,  you  will  see 
how  true  that  reflection  is,   for  you   will  see  that 
simplification   of  life  has   always   followed  the  new 
birth  of  spirituality.     The  moment  Buddha  grasps 
the  great  truth  that  he  is  an  emanation  from  God, 
that  God  is  all,  and  in  all,  he  can  leave  the  palace 
and  be  a  cheerful  beggar  by  the  wayside.     The  ma- 
terial has  perished  because  the  spiritual  is  born.     In 
the  same  way  St.  Paul  says  that  he  knows  "  how  to 
be  abased  and  how  to  abound."     Fulness  and  poverty 
are  alike  nothing  to  him,  because  his  soul  is  lost  in 
God.     And  it  was  so  with  Wordsworth.     From  the 
moment  when  the  great  thought  of  the  mysticism 
of  Nature  possessed  him,  he  preferred  poverty  with 
the  vision  of  Nature  to  wealth  without  it.     These 
men   are   different,   their   ideals,   their  methods    and 
speech  are  different,  but  they  are  united  in  a  real 
unity  of  experience.     From  the  hour  when  the  high- 
est things  possess  them  the  spell  of  the  lower  things  is 
broken.     And  as   it  was   with  these   men   so   it  has 
always  been  throughout  the  long  history  of  the  ages. 
It  was  so  with  the  early  Christians ;  the  birth  of  the 
soul  in  them,  delivered  them  from  the  yoke  of  material- 
ism and  the  care  for  material  luxury.     It  was  so  with 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

the  Puritans ;  living  ever  as  in  their  Taskmaster's  eye, 
they  were  indifferent  to  the  praises  of  the  world.  And 
it  must  be  so  with  us  if  ever  we  are  to  get  that  note  of 
simplification  struck  again.  But  the  simplification 
of  society,  lives  of  higher  thinking,  lives  of  plainer 
living,  lives  of  purer  feeling,  will  have  to  come 
through  the  rebirth  of  spiritual  instinct  and  spir- 
itual desires. 

My  brethren,  are  we  rooted  and  grounded  then  in 
the  simplicity  of  Christ?  We  can  only  become  so 
by  being  rooted  in  the  spirituality  of  Christ.  We 
look  back  to  that  sacred  idyll  of  Christ's  Galilean 
ministry,  and  we  think,  possibly,  how  glorious  and 
sweet  it  would  have  been  to  have  walked  with  Him 
there  by  the  lake's  side  and  in  the  field  of  the  lilies, 
listening  to  His  talk,  Who  spake  as  never  man  spake 
of  the  things  of  Nature;  but  have  you  not  noticed 
that  those  who  were  His  companions  in  these  scenes 
were  all  of  them  quite  unworldly  people;  they  were 
people  who  had  given  up  all  because  they  thought 
it  worth  while  to  give  up  all  for  the  sake  of  the 
Divine  comradeship?  And  it  is  so  still.  Simplifi- 
cation of  life  is  found  in  increased  spirituality  of 
thought.  The  root  of  Christ's  life  was  in  God,  and, 
if  we  are  rooted  in  Christ  as  Christ  was  rooted  in 
God,  then  there  may  come  to  us  the  possibility  of 
that  quiet,  simple,  contented  life  that  Jesus  Himself 
lived  in  the  fields  of  Galilee. 

The  reproach  of  the  flower  —  it  is  again  the  re- 
278 


REPROACH     OF     THE     FLOWER 

proach    of    faithfulness.     "  Faithfulness,"    we    say : 
"  pray  what  has  faithfulness  to  do  with  the  flower 
of  the  field?  "     Christ  evidently  thought  it  had  some- 
thing to  do -with  it,  for  you  will  notice  that  He  closes 
this  talk  about  the  flowers  of  the  field  with  the  sad 
apostrophe,  "  O  ye  of  little  faith ! "     Suppose  for 
a  moment  one  could  attribute  consciousness  to  these 
flowers,  and  that  we  could  question  them  about  the 
nature  of  their  life,  what  sort  of  answer  would  they 
give?     Might  not  the  flower  be  imagined  as  replying 
to  us  thus :  "  I  am  but  a  tiny  thing  under  the  wide 
firmament   with   its    great   sun    and   its   mystery    of 
glittering  stars,  yet  I  know  that  I  am  not  forgotten. 
Dews  and  sunbeams  and  rain  and  wind  all  come  to 
me,  each  in  its  appointed  season.     Little  as  I  am, 
I  am  God's  partner  in  weaving  the  pageantry   of 
summer.     I  do  my  little  part  in  a  humble  place  but 
I  know  that  God  has  dealings  with  me.     There  is  a 
kind  of  faith  in  me,  faith  that  God  will  care  for  me, 
faith  that  God  cares  for  my  beauty  and  my  perfec- 
tion, and  so  I  am  faithfully  doing  the  exact  thing 
God  has  given  me  to  do,  and  waiting  that  God  may 
do  for  me  the  thing  I  cannot  do  for  myself."     That 
is  the  confession  of  the  flower.     Is  it  our  confession? 
How    rare    is    such    a    confession     on    human    lips ! 
How  few  of  us  do  really  feel  God's  partnership  in 
our  little   life!     Throughout   all   Nature   there   lies 
this    deep    abiding    law    of    faithfulness,    the    quiet 
fulfilment    of    the    Divine    plan,    the    meek    acqui- 

279 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

escence  in  the  Divine  will,  the  whole  creation 
resting  on  its  God  and  waiting  patiently  for 
Him.  But  in  man  there  is  little  of  this  faithful- 
ness. And  so  the  flower  reproaches  us.  And  He 
Who  speaks  of  flowers,  and  Whose  life  was  one 
beautiful  unfolding  of  meekness  and  faith,  reproaches 
us  in  saying :  "  If  God  so  clothe  the  grass  of  the  field 
which  to-day  is  and  to-morrow  is  cast  into  the  oven, 
shall  He  not  much  more  clothe  you,  O  ye  of  little 
faith !  "  Rooted  in  Christ  —  are  we  rooted  in  the 
steadfast  faith  and  patience  of  Christ?  For  among 
all  those  great  qualities  which  the  life  of  Christ 
reveals  to  men,  first  of  all  stands  His  faithfulness. 
He  never  once  murmured  at  His  lot,  even  when  it 
was  hardest;  He  never  scorned  the  place  appointed 
for  Him,  even  when  it  was  lowliest.  Most  wonderful 
of  all  things  in  that  wondrous  life  is  the  composure 
of  Christ's  mind,  His  serene  trust  in  God.  He  felt 
the  partnership  with  God  in  His  life,  with  a  complete- 
ness that  no  other  ever  realised.  "  I  and  the  Father 
are  One."  Nothing  could  separate  Him  from  God, 
not  even  the  great  dereliction  of  the  Cross.  And  to 
be  rooted  in  Christ  is  to  have  the  same  spirit  of  entire 
faithfulness,  producing  entire  humility  and  com- 
posure and  the  peaceful  unfolding  of  the  soul  into 
a  beauty  which  is  for  God's  eye  alone,  as  it  is  wrought 
alone  by  the  grace  and  the  spirit  of  God. 

The  reproach  of  the  -flower  —  it  is,  once  more,  the 
280 


REPROACH     OF     THE     FLOWER 

reproach  of  beauty.  If  there  is  one  thing  in  which 
all  agree  when  we  gaze  at  flowers,  it  is  this  —  we  feel 
the  charm  of  their  beauty.  But,  if  we  come  to  an- 
alyse beauty,  what  is  beauty  but  another  word  for 
completeness?  Why  is  the  flower  beautiful?  Be- 
cause it  is  complete.  You  could  not  better  it,  with 
all  your  thinking,  though  you  thought  for  a  lifetime  ; 
you  could  not  add  to  the  lily  of  the  field,  or  even  to 
the  daisy,  a  single  element  that  would  be  an  added 
grace.  It  is  complete.  A  friend  of  mine  last  week 
was  good  enough  to  send  me  some  exquisite  specimens 
of  the  bee-orchid  with  their  marvellous  mimicry  of 
life,  and  as  I  looked  upon  that  mimicry  of  life  I  felt 
the  wonder  of  it,  I  felt  that  these  flowers  were  flower- 
miracles  ;  but  yesterday  I  cut  a  common  garden  rose 
—  and  but  a  poor  one  at  that  —  and  looked  into  its 
beautiful  convolutions  for  a  moment  before  the  petals 
fell,  and  the  thought  came  to  me  that  after  all  that 
was  quite  as  marvellous  as  the  bee-orchid,  and  quite 
as  beautiful.  For  wherever  there  is  completeness 
there  is  beauty.  The  design  of  God  is  so  uniformly 
beautiful  that  we  have  only  to  obey  the  design  to 
attain  beauty,  and  it  is  only  when  we  disregard  the 
design  of  God  that  we  arrive  at  ugliness.  Show 
me  completeness  anywhere,  in  the  daisy,  in  the  rose, 
in  the  child,  in  the  human  mind,  in  the  development  of 
a  human  life,  and  you  show  me  beauty.  And  there 
is  no  beauty  where  there  is  not  completeness.     But 

281 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

of  all  beautiful  things  in  this  world,  a  complete  hu- 
man life  is  the  most  beautiful.  I  mentioned  in  a  re- 
cent address  an  article  which  had  struck  me  in  one 
of  the  art  magazines,  an  article  describing  Claydon 
House  in  Buckinghamshire.  The  house  is  one  of 
the  houses  beautiful  of  England.  Pages  were  taken 
up  with  descriptions  of  its  carvings,  its  pictures,  its 
staircases,  the  marvels  of  its  wrought  iron  and  ex- 
quisite marqueterie,  and  so  forth;  and  then  at  the 
very  end  of  the  article  it  was  mentioned  that  there 
was  a  little  plain  room  upstairs  that  had  no  art 
adornment  whatever,  but  it  was  in  that  room  Florence 
Nightingale  dwelt.  And  on  the  walls  were  no  historic 
pictures,  but  only  crude  scenes  in  the  Crimean  War. 
Only  that.  Ah !  but  I  felt  that  that  room  was  the 
true  shrine  of  the  whole  place.  There  a  soul  had 
lived,  there  a  spiritual  life  had  gone  on,  and  that 
was  the  glory  of  the  house.  It  gave  a  beauty  to  it. 
You  can  get  no  beauty  in  human  life  except  through 
the  beautiful  soul.  Houses  are  poor  things  until 
love  comes  into  them  and  makes  them  homes,  and  the 
house  of  life  is  a  poor  thing  until  the  spirit  of  God 
takes  possession  of  the  inner  shrine  and  makes  the 
life  complete.  Would  you  live  a  beautiful  life? 
Let  it  be  a  complete  life,  and  what  this  completion  is 
the  great  Apostle  tells  you  —  Rooted  in  Christ, 
grounded  in  Christ,  established  in  Christ  —  and  here 
is  the  final  phrase,  "complete  in  Him"     That  life 

282 


REPROACH     OF     THE     FLOWER 

alone  I  count  a  beautiful  life  which  is  a  complete  life, 
and  for  the  true  completion  of  our  life  we  must  be 
rooted  in  Christ,  and  grow  in  His  grace,  that  we 
may  attain  to  His  image. 

The  reproach  of  beauty.     As  our  eyes  rest  on 
these  exquisite  and  perfected  works  of  Nature's  art, 
do  we  feel  the  reproach  of  beauty,  do  we  feel  how 
unbeautif ul  our  lives  often  are,  how  little  of  grace  and 
perfume  there  is  in  them,  how  thwarted  and  impov- 
erished and  deflected  from  God's  design  they  are? 
Why  ?     The  reason  with  many  of  us  —  and  I  speak 
now  to  those  who  call  themselves   Christians  —  the 
reason   is  that  we  are  rooted  upon  Christ,  rather 
than  rooted  in  Christ;  we  are  parasites.     The  ivy 
clings  to  the  oak,  but  it  is  easily  separable  from  it, 
because  it  has  no  part  in  the  root  and  in  the  life  of 
the  oak ;  so  some  of  us  are  clinging  to  the  surfaces 
of  Christianity,  to  its  outward  forms  and  functions, 
but  our  root  has  never  yet  struck  deep  into  the  life 
of  Christ.     The  roots  of  your  life,  the  fibres  in  which 
the  vital  sap  runs,  what  of  these?     You  and  I  can  an- 
swer that  question  best  for  ourselves.     For  some  of  us, 
it  may  be,  that  the  real  root  of  our  life  is  in  pride 
and    vanity;    for    others    it    is    in    worldliness    and 
pleasure ;  for  others  it  is  in  secret  sins  and  in  the  cor- 
rupt and  evil  will.     And  there  can  be  no  beauty  in 
such  a  life,  there  will  blossom  no  perfect  flower  from 
such  a  root.     Look  to  the  roots  of  your  life  then, 


THE       DIVINE       CHALLENGE 

for  that  is  the  final  message  of  the  flowers.  All  that 
is  of  beauty  in  the  flowers  has  its  source  is  some- 
thing that  is  out  of  sight.  So  the  beautiful  life 
is  a  life  whose  root  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God.  Of 
all  the  world's  great  needs  to-day,  there  is  no  need  so 
great  as  a  more  pure  and  perfect  life  among  Chris- 
tians. It  is  the  poor  and  dwarfed  blossom  of  moral 
beauty  that  we  find  in  the  lives  that  are  called  Chris- 
tian that  is  the  great  hindrance  to  Christianity. 
Remember,  creeds  and  professions  have  very  little 
weight  with  men  now-a-days  —  less  than  they  ever 
had.  It  is  lives  that  count,  and  to-day,  as  in  the 
early  days  of  Christianity,  it  is  the  spectacle  of 
lives,  manifestly  beautiful  in  ideals  and  conduct,  in 
spirit  and  temper,  that  set  men  thinking,  and  pres- 
ently set  them  seeking  for  the  secret  of  Jesus.  How 
are  we  to  live  such  lives?  Only  by  being  rooted  in 
Christ,  rooted  in  His  faith,  rooted  in  His  character, 
His  thoughts,  His  deeds,  His  spirit  and  temper.  He 
calls  us,  He  entreats  us  to  share  His  most  secret  life, 
telling  us  that  He  is  the  Vine  and  we  are  the  branches. 
And  so  let  us  join  in  prayer  to  the  Vine  of  God,  that 
He  may  take  our  lives  into  His  own,  we  rooted  in  Him 
and  He  in  us  for  evermore. 

Deep  strike  Thy  root,  O  Heavenly  Vine, 

Within  our  earthly  sod, 
Most  beautiful,  yet  most  divine, 

The  Flower  of  man  and  God. 
284 


REPROACH     OF    THE     FLOWER 

Rooted,  grounded,  stablished,  complete  in  Christ  — 
that  is  the  life  beautiful  that  we  each  may  live,  and 
this  is  also  "  life  eternal  to  know  the  only  true  God 
and  Jesus  Christ  whom  He  hath  sent." 


THE  B*JD 


285 


